Stay With Me
by Minty-Fivestar
Summary: After the events of The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes struggles to make a life for himself while trying to remember who he really is. But just when he thinks he's found a way to exist quietly, he runs into a compelling young woman that inspires him to do more than just survive.
1. Chapter 1

**Stay With Me  
By: Minty-Fivestar**

 _Hello and welcome to the story! This is my first foray into the Captain America fanfiction section. I've had so much fun writing this, and I hope you will all enjoy reading it._

 _The story takes place a few months after the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, and is a Bucky Barnes x OC pairing. It is an incredibly fluffy and emotional romance story, and I make no apologies for that. If this does not sound like something you will enjoy, feel free to read a different fanfic!_

 _A fair warning in advance—I did not write this story with chapters in mind. The entire story is one long, fairly continuous piece with only a couple scene breaks throughout. As a result, for the purposes of uploading to this site, I've had to divide it into chapters that are probably 10-20 pages long each. I apologize and hope this will not deter you from reading and enjoying the story!_

 _Rating is T due to instances of profanity, violence, and minor sensual content. I will probably bump up the rating to M for a later chapter due to sexual content (though it will be as tasteful as possible and not particularly graphic); please keep this in mind. I will place warnings at the beginning of that chapter when it is posted in case you wish to skip it.  
_

 _Special thanks to JiGziK of Toyhouse, and shin_jii of Fur Affinity, for helping me with the Russian and Romanian translations included in this story._

 _Disclaimer:_ _Captain America, Bucky Barnes, and all concepts of the Marvel Universe belong to Marvel, Disney, and all other rightful owners._ _I do, however, own this story and my original characters and concepts. Do not attempt to steal or use ideas from my stories without permission._ _(Note that I do not claim to own general concepts that anyone can come up with; I am merely protective of my exact renditions. Believe it or not, I have discovered very un-creative thieves who have essentially plagiarized my stories, with only a few minor differences or replacing the characters I used with their own.)_

* * *

 ** _Chapter 1_  
**

Where some people hated routine, he relished it each and every day. Waking up at the same time every morning, taking the same walk to the bus stop, seeing the same bus driver, doing the same work amongst the same people, then going back home to repeat it tomorrow… Monotonous, yet soothing in its own way. He liked not having to think, not having to feel. He could stare into the distance and forget about everything as he did things out of habit, not out of an irresistible command that he could not fight.

But even taking up this new life in Philadelphia did not erase the anxiety and the memories. The past that would never leave him. Whenever anyone talked to him, his heart would pound faster, anticipating the horror in their eyes if they recognized his face. Washington, D.C., after all, was not that far away. The sound of a siren would make him go tense, fists clenching and ready for a fight. Every day, he would wonder if this would be the last peaceful moment he'd enjoy before the door was smashed in and the police would come to take him away. To condemn him for crimes he'd done and yet not done.

This, perhaps, was why he preferred not to think. There was comfort in being removed even from himself.

The routine was like clockwork, more of the same each morning. Which was why he immediately took notice when she started standing next to him, at the bus stop.

At first, he didn't pay her too much attention. Plenty of people took the bus one-off—perhaps their car needed servicing, or they had a new job interview in a different part of town, or something to that effect. He assumed this young woman was in such a situation, and felt no need to draw her notice. But after three days, when she still showed up at the bus stop five minutes after he did, he finally ventured to glance in her direction and look her over.

She was a small, gentle-looking woman; her features gave him the feeling she had a touch of Asian in her, though he couldn't place what specifically. She wore a cream blouse with a red skirt, and her dark brown hair was long and framed her face just right. He wasn't accustomed to such softness, such sweetness, and somehow looking at her only made him more intrigued. She seemed distant, and it took him a while to realize she had earbuds in, listening to an MP3 player hidden in a pocket. Her heels bounced up and down ever so slightly to the beat, and every so often he could see her lips move, as she quietly sang along.

He couldn't tell if he felt uncomfortable, or _especially_ comfortable in her presence. There was something in her poise and subtle movements and the curve of her mouth that made him feel particularly relaxed, and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. But as the bus pulled up, he found himself cracking a very faint, rare smile, and he allowed her to board first. Their eyes met briefly and he saw her smile back.

The two became content with this daily breath of interaction, each and every day. He didn't relish attention from others, was even paranoid about it, but with her, he was willing to risk her getting a good look at him just so he could see the light in her eyes. Something about it felt nice; perhaps it was simply because she was so different from the norm. Once, she dropped a pack of tissues out of her purse when she was fumbling for her bus pass, and he paused to retrieve it for her. She initially looked surprised when he placed it in her hands, but then she beamed.

"Thank you," she said, shyly. Her voice was as soft as she looked, and a sense of untraceable peace washed over him.

"You're welcome," he replied, and some long-suppressed memories leaped to the forefront of their own accord. He flashed a charming smile so instinctive and yet so foreign to himself that he scarcely knew what else to say, how to continue. She blushed, ever so slightly, before moving to board the bus.

In this pleasant, gradual way, she became part of his routine.

It was probably two weeks later when he noticed she wasn't there at the usual time. In her absence, he, for some reason, found himself uncomfortable. He found himself glancing up and down the street, wondering if she'd show up. When the bus pulled into view, he felt his heart sink for her, even if he told himself it shouldn't matter. Maybe she was sick. Maybe she had an appointment. Maybe—

"Wait!"

He had just stepped into the bus and was putting his bus pass away when he heard her voice. He turned to see her racing down the street, obviously in a panicked hurry. He expected the bus driver to wait a few seconds more, to allow her to get on, but instead the bus driver reached to close the door with an impassive, dour expression. The doors automatically began to swing shut, and the bus lurched as the driver took his foot off the brake, ready to leave.

Predictably, the panic in the girl's face gave way to an expression of shocked despair, realizing she would miss the bus and be late for work. Their eyes met through the window, and in her eyes he saw a desperation, a silent plea, trusting him with helping her when no one else would.

It made him flinch, and before he knew it, his left arm lunged out to stop the doors from closing.

He must have used far too much strength, for as the doors came together on his arm, they made a horrible cracking, metallic sound. The doors were instantly warped and forced off their tracks. The girl stopped short before the half-closed doors in surprise, and the bus driver gasped.

"Whoa pal, you ok?!" The driver was in a panic, terrified that someone just had been seriously injured on his watch.

The girl looked equally as worried, reaching out to try and push the doors off his arm. "Oh my God, are you hurt?"

Irritated at himself, the girl, and the driver all in the same breath, he easily jerked his arm free. The doors flopped uselessly; the mechanism to close them had been broken. "I'm fine," he muttered, pretending to rub his arm even if there was no pain to feel.

The bus driver did not press the issue, thankfully; maybe he didn't want to have to explain why he'd chosen to ignore a passenger trying to board, and in the process nearly smashed a guy's arm in the doors. The young woman, with some difficulty, squeezed through the half-open doors; the driver didn't even bother to ask for her bus pass.

He kept his head low, unwilling to look at the other passengers probably staring at him in confusion or annoyance. He didn't even notice the girl until she had already seated herself next to him.

The two didn't speak. He kept his head down towards the floor, studying the un-scuffed black leather of her thigh-high boots, and comparing them to his own worn work boots. She looked nice, dressed neatly, and was cute and tidy in every way. He felt out of place next to her, scruffy and second-hand and used as he was.

"Thank you," she finally murmured. He let his gaze wander up to see her face, and her brown eyes looked shy. "Are you… sure you're not hurt?"

"No, I'm fine." He looked away, hoping she would not press further and he wouldn't have to explain himself.

"I believe you."

He looked at her again, a little surprised. But something in her voice made him relax, and he finally lifted his head. Her long hair was in two pigtails that draped over her shoulders, and something in the back of his mind made him wish he could say something. How cute she looked today, how he hoped her morning wasn't going too terribly, anything like that. But he was too cautious, too wary of inviting her any closer, so he remained silent.

"I forgot to set my alarm for this morning," she explained, sounding embarrassed. He watched her rearrange her purse, the belongings apparently out of place and messy. He could only imagine she had been in a rush to get out the door so she wouldn't miss the bus. "I'm usually pretty good about it, but…"

"It happens," he replied, though in truth it didn't happen to him. He woke up at 5 a.m. every single day, regardless of how he felt or what he wanted. The schedule had been beaten into him so sharply that now he couldn't get rid of the impulse if he tried. It didn't matter what time zone he was in, either—once he adjusted and knew what time it was, his mind would never let him wake up at any other time.

"It was nice of you to… um… stop the bus for me," the girl added, politely ignoring the fact that he'd somehow damaged the bus to do so. "I really appreciate it. By the way, my name is Solace."

 _Solace._ It was somehow apt for the way she made him feel when she spoke. He blinked slowly, glancing at the friendly hand she offered to him, before gently accepting it in his own. Her hand was small and soft in his large, rough one.

"What's your name?" she prompted, when he didn't reply immediately.

His mind blanked; for a moment, all he had on his lips were numbers. _32557038._

He knew his name—at least, _now_ he did—but it was as foreign to him as anything else, and that would just have to do. He hesitated, just for a moment, before forcing a smile.

"James," he replied, weakly. "Nice to meet you."

* * *

 _Relatively short chapter… but that's the only chapter that's like that. They get longer after this. :)_

 _Please review and let me know what you think so far! I will be posting updates regularly, so please stay tuned for the next part! (It shouldn't be too long a wait, since this chapter was somewhat short.) Thank you!_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

Now that they had names to put to faces, their interactions were warmer, their smiles more genuine. They returned to their usual routine at the bus stop, but from then on, they did not sit alone. He was normally silent in contrast to Solace's friendly, more talkative demeanor, but that was fine. He preferred to listen to her, anyway. Her voice was soothing, and sometimes he would even find himself dozing off while she talked. He would always apologize, somewhat embarrassed, and assure her she was not boring, but she'd always laugh and say it was no big deal.

Secretly he wondered if she knew he didn't want to talk about himself. There was nothing to speak of, after all—no personal details, no history, no likes or dislikes. Everything he knew about himself was what he read about in articles extolling the life and military service of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. But there was no connection. No memory. Nothing.

He liked learning about Solace, though. She was reserved with her personal information, for the most part—a fair trade, considering he offered nothing in return. But over the next few weeks, he slowly came to learn more and more about her. She apparently worked at a children's hospital in the city, counseling and supporting children who frequently went through surgery or treatments for grave conditions. She took the job to heart, he could tell; when she had a good day, she practically glowed with joy. When tragedy struck—which it too often did—her pain was difficult to hide.

Part of him wished he could tell her how to cope, or offer words of comfort in such instances, but he knew no more about it than she did. His life was nothing but a series of tragedies culminating in causing even greater tragedies to others, and he was numb to the pain by now.

Fortunately, she preferred sharing more light-hearted, silly things about her life with him, and he preferred to hear it, too. She liked cute things like animals, clothing, and desserts. He smiled when she would lament about not finding her size at a clothing sale, or talk excitedly about a movie coming out she couldn't wait to see, or—in this case—encourage him to visit her favorite ice cream shop in town, despite the fact that it was finally autumn and the days and nights were getting colder and colder.

"I thought you always complained about being cold," he teased gently. Solace seemed to enjoy hearing his voice, infrequent as it was, for she would often blush when he spoke.

"It's worth it for ice cream," she retorted, giving him a gentle smack in the shoulder. He forced himself to play-cringe, feeling nothing at the sensation other than what cybernetics could relate to him.

"Perhaps I'll have to try it some time," he relented, hoping to take her mind off why his arm seemed to offer so much resistance. "Tell me where it is."

Solace's eyes brightened; too late did he realize he'd presented her an opening. "I'll do you one better," she replied, giving him a challenging look. "I'll take you there myself. When are you available?"

He hesitated, wavering, not wanting to break his routine, but not wanting to say no to her either. "After work tomorrow, I guess."

She nodded happily, pleased with the answer regardless of how vague it was. She pulled out her phone, and after a series of deliberate taps, handed it to him. He studied the screen to see she had made him a contact page. "Give me your number, and we can coordinate the time later."

It was hard not to like her enthusiasm, so he, with some reluctance, typed in his number. "Don't text me," he warned. "I have a cheap phone plan."

Solace laughed as he pulled out a worn flip phone and handed it to her, so she could enter her contact information as well. She struggled to type on the old-fashioned keypad. "No worries, I'll call," she assured. "It'll be worth the trip, I promise!"

He initially had his doubts, but when he found himself looking forward to the occasion the next day, even finishing work up early so he could head home and shower beforehand, he began to second-guess himself. She'd called him during lunch earlier to set up the time and meeting place; despite the brevity of the call, he could tell she was happy. Maybe she just really wanted to spend time with him outside of a crowded bus on the way to work. He, on the other hand, had mixed feelings about it. Being with Solace was nice, certainly, but as always, the soldier in the back of his mind made him hesitate. What if she wanted to learn more, what if she recognized who he was, what if she was one of them—

Shoving such thoughts aside, he squinted at himself in the bathroom mirror and frowned at what he saw. He'd left off shaving for a while in the hope his facial hair would help mask his identity, but it did little to stop his paranoia. His long hair hung in soggy strands and stuck to his face and neck, threatening to brush the tops of his shoulders. His eyes, as always, were drawn to the harsh red scar tissue that ran along the edge of metal, giving way to the shiny silver of his cybernetic arm. He gritted his teeth and tried to focus his attention to something else, but it was hard. The ship, the smoke, the water, _Steve…_

They tried so hard to blot it out of his mind, to erase everything that might have meant he was still a man. But even if he could not remember these things on his own, he knew that someone, somewhere, was still holding out hope for him.

His mind struggled with the images in his head as he turned away from the mirror. A scrawny blond boy, struggling to keep up. A stronger, mightier version of the boy, now lifting him from the table and helping him walk, the relief in his voice apparent. A bloodied version of this man, refusing to fight back. _I'm not gonna fight you. You're my friend._

Furious, he swung his fist, slamming it hard into the door frame. An audible crack made him wince, and a chunk of the wood fell to the floor. _Dammit._

He wished he had nicer clothes to meet Solace in. Normally such a thing wouldn't matter to him, but he suddenly became keenly aware of the tatters in his jeans, the light spots of wear and tear on his jacket, and the slight fraying at the edges of his t-shirt. He hoped she wouldn't mind. Probably not, right? She must not care too much if she wanted to go out for ice cream with some scruffy guy on the bus.

By the time he hopped off the bus, at an intersection just a few blocks from the ice cream place, the sun was already starting to go down and the temperature had dropped noticeably. He stuck his hands in his pockets and waited, leaning against a light post. As always, his eyes moved from object to object, person to person, anything that moved. The soldier had to always be aware of everything around him.

Another bus pulled up about ten minutes later, and he found himself smiling in relief when he saw Solace step off. She looked around, a little worried that maybe he wasn't there, but he waved at her so she'd notice him. She practically ran over to greet him.

"You're here," she exclaimed, sounding nearly as surprised as he felt about it.

"Sure," he replied, looking her over. She looked like she had tried to dress up a little for him, and he liked what he saw. A cream-and-black dress, with stockings and flats. He couldn't see the whole thing for her coat, but it kind of reminded him of… of…

…A time no longer his own.

His smile faded slightly.

Solace touched his hand, and he snapped out of his thoughts. "You look really nice," he blurted.

Her eyes brightened happily at the compliment. "Thank you," she said, sounding pleased. "You… smell really nice."

The comment was baffling to him; it was probably just his soap. "Thanks?" he replied, with an incredulous laugh. How she found something to compliment about him, he had no idea. "I'm sorry I can't look as good as you."

This time, Solace laughed as well. She reached out to grab his arm and led him down the sidewalk. "Oh, I didn't mean it in a bad way or anything! Besides, you always look good."

"I do not." It was the first time she had expressed any sort of interest in his physical appearance, and it made him uncomfortable.

Unperturbed, Solace continued leading the way, her fingers intertwining gently with his. Somehow, she seemed more comfortable when it was just the two of them. "Sure you do," she teased. "It's your eyes. And your smile."

"Hm." He thought very little of either; he only ever noticed the pain and the dead exhaustion in his face every time he looked in the mirror. He was perplexed as to how Solace found anything beautiful in his blue eyes, or his forced smile. But the fact that she did anyway was sweet, and comforting.

The two walked a few more blocks before they arrived at the brightly-lit ice cream parlor, done up in a classic diner setting. The inside was bustling, full of families, groups of friends, and couples out on date night just like them. The two easily decided on ordering sandwiches before getting some sundaes, and he tried not to scarf down the food in her presence despite how hungry he was. He got by decently enough from the work he did, but never got to indulge in a full-blown meal like this one. He was conditioned to fight on far less.

"I told you it was good," Solace said, obviously pleased with what she perceived as his delight with the food.

The sandwich _was_ good, and the ice cream even more so. He took his time savoring the dessert, feeling a memory right on the edge of his mind with every taste. It took him a while to notice Solace staring at him, looking more interested in him than in her sundae.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

He touched his spoon to his lips, considering. "I haven't had ice cream in a long time," he mused. "Reminds me of… when I was younger."

"Nice memories, I hope?"

"Yeah." He looked down at his bowl, before breathing a sigh. In truth, he couldn't really remember. "That was a long time ago, though."

He looked at her for her reaction, but she didn't seem surprised. The intrigue on her face was obvious, but she seemed more sympathetic than curious. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry," she said, softly. "I can tell you've had a… hard life. I can see it in your eyes."

She was surprisingly straightforward, and it made him blush a little. He had no idea it was so obvious.

"It… has been, I guess. Not lately, though, thanks to you." The words were candid and out of his mouth before he realized what he'd said, and he looked just as startled as she did.

"I… didn't do anything," she murmured, suddenly looking sheepish. "I just asked you out to dinner."

He wanted to tell her she'd done far more than that. That her presence these last two months had soothed him in a way that was impossible to describe, and despite every guard and wall he'd built to try and escape his identity and his fate… she had encouraged him to come out of his shell. She reminded him he was still human. Had human wants and needs and feelings, even after so long of being denied them.

But instead, he simply smiled. "Thanks for asking me out."

The walk back to the bus stop was pleasant. The sun had set, but the city streets were well-illuminated and the air was cool and crisp. Solace held his hand again, completely un-shy, and this time he welcomed it without flinching. The atmosphere was, indeed, so nice that he didn't anticipate the man who stumbled into their path, disheveled and wide-eyed.

"H-hey man," the man said, reaching out to the pair. "Spare some cash? Anything, please."

Instinctively, he put his arm in front of Solace, narrowing his eyes. The man seemed desperate, and judging from his strange behavior, might have been suffering the side effects of some substance. This could be a risky situation.

"We don't have anything," he said, firmly. "Sorry."

"Don't lie to me, man." Reaching under his coat, the man suddenly pulled out a knife and waved it at them menacingly. "I need cash really bad. I'll do anything. Don't make me take it."

While Solace gasped, he simply stood there, unafraid and unaffected, save for his concern for the woman at his back. His vision clouded, giving way to the soldier; all he could see was that this unstable man was an obstacle, threatening his mission, and all threats had to be eliminated—

The man suddenly lunged forward, obviously a warning strike, but instead of recoiling the soldier moved into the attack. The knife clashed against his left arm, punching a small hole in his jacket, and the recoil of metal against metal made the man drop the knife in surprise. His boot slammed down hard on the knife before the man could grab it again. Panicking, the man reached up to grapple with him instead.

"Don't _make_ me hurt you," he growled, half a threat and half a plea for the man to stop. He could feel the pounding of his pulse in his head and the training overtaking his actions. _Please stop so I can stop; if I start I'll keep going and going and I won't be able to stop until—_

"Hey." A soft voice spoke, calm yet strong. Both men froze where they stood, and Solace slowly stepped forward. "This isn't necessary, ok? Let's not be upset."

The man stared at her, eyes wild, flinching at the suggestion. "Shut up! Just shut up, ok?" he yelled.

"Solace, don't. Stay back." He was confused as to why she wanted to even talk to this guy, and his fists tightened at his sides. If the man moved even an inch towards her, he would—

"I'm sorry we can't help you, but you don't have to do anything drastic," she continued, ignoring her friend and moving closer to the disheveled man. "Just relax. Breathe. Look at me."

"Hey, I'm serious! You touch me, I'll—"

Still, Solace persisted, staring into the man's eyes, continuing to speak softly. "I'm not going to hurt you," she assured. "And you're not going to hurt us. It's safe here. Don't be afraid."

The more she spoke, the more the aggression seemed to leak out of both men. The desperate man twitched, his eyes darting to the knife still trapped under the boot, then looking back at Solace in a daze. Likewise, the soldier began to falter, giving way to gentle relaxation, and the vague realization that there was something very odd going on.

Solace's gentle murmurs blurred in his ears, becoming almost lyrical, incomprehensible but undeniably soothing. The disheveled stranger must have perceived her words in the exact same way, for he sagged to the ground after a few moments, all strength seeming to leave him. He looked like he had fallen asleep.

"Hey, are you ok? We called the police; did that guy hurt you?" There was another couple across the street, staring at the scene with terrified eyes and calling out to them.

For a moment he couldn't see, couldn't think, couldn't move. It was like a gentle haze had covered his vision, slowly pulling the soldier away and tucking him into a soft warm embrace. He might have passed out from the sensation, if he hadn't felt a gentle hand on his arm.

"James. Are you all right?"

He blinked, taking a moment to remember again the name he had given Solace. It was his name and yet not. He barely knew how to respond to it, and could only stare helplessly at her as she squeezed his hand. She smiled weakly before looking across the street, waving back at the couple.

"We're fine," she called. "Thank you!"

Relieved, the couple turned to murmur amongst themselves, and Solace took the opportunity to grab his hand and pull him away from the scene. "Let's go," she whispered, and this time her voice was tinged with urgency.

He was only too happy to agree, and the two of them departed down the street. There was always another bus on another corner to catch.

* * *

The two arrived at Solace's apartment later that night, despite her protesting that he didn't need to escort her back. But he was paranoid about leaving her alone to run into another threatening person, and so it was that he found himself standing just outside her front door, looking into her small, tidy apartment.

"Don't let all the cold in!" she called from somewhere inside, where she had disappeared. She had told him to wait right there while she fetched something, but he was unsure about stepping into a lady's home. He knew she wanted him to come inside where it was warmer, and probably thought nothing about inviting him in, but something in him felt it wasn't quite appropriate.

"Really, it's fine! Come in!"

With a tense sigh, he finally stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind him. He refused to move off the welcome mat just inside the entryway, but he had to admit it was cozier in here.

"Seriously though, are you ok? It looked like he stabbed you in the arm," Solace fretted, coming out of the bathroom with a first aid kit.

He instinctively hid his arm behind his back, hoping she would not spy the gleam of metal through the hole in his sleeve. "I'm all right," he assured. "Just grazed my jacket."

She frowned at him, but set the kit aside. "You don't have to be so stubborn," she scolded. "You could have been hurt."

"You could have been hurt, too," he pointed out. "I don't know what happened, but you're lucky he didn't attack you."

"I… guess." Solace deflated a little, and he could sense the reluctance in her voice to discuss the matter further. He wanted to push, wanted to dig, but he knew that was only fair if he was willing to let her do the same to him.

"I still had a good time," he said, gazing at her with a warmth that pushed all his previous tension aside. He knew it was late and he should leave, but now that the time had come, he didn't want to go. "Thanks for inviting me out."

Solace nodded and approached him, their eyes meeting. "It was a lot of fun, wasn't it? We should do it again sometime."

"We should."

He felt her fingers on his jacket, stroking across his shoulders; despite himself, he tensed, instinctively. She gave a gentle chuckle, before softly resting her cheek against his chest and giving him a hug. "Thanks for looking out for me, by the way," she murmured against him.

He closed his eyes, trying to steady his nerves, and marveled at how such a simple gesture could rattle him. Maybe there were some things a soldier could never be trained for.

"Always," he promised, almost without thinking.

She didn't respond; instead, her hands softly moved against his body, down his sides and stopping at his waist. The sensation was soothing at first, coaxing a gentle sigh out of him, but when her fingers brushed back up, he was unprepared for the feeling of them pushing up his shirt slightly and grazing across bare skin. He gasped, startled, and all of a sudden he found her leaning up to press her lips against his.

The gesture was equal parts sweet and desperate, and his vision swam as he suddenly lost his focus, his discipline, his nerve. He felt like he was losing himself again, like so many times before, and the feeling almost scared him. He didn't want to commit to this, terrified it would all come crumbling down and he would lose her just like everything else in his life. But at the same time, he wanted to give in. He wanted to forget everything, and just let her take whatever was left of him.

She tried to pull away, suddenly self-conscious and afraid of her impulsivity, but his hands grabbed her hips and pulled her back against him. This time his mouth was on hers, and the ferocity and hunger in his response made her moan, startled and delighted all at the same time. They kissed, over and over, until they were left trembling, until they knew each other in every breath and taste and fevered touch. When at last it became too much, he let his head roll back and gazed down at her with dizzy affection. Her fingers dug into his clothing with a strength he didn't even realize she had, and her wide eyes were still as beautiful as ever.

"James—" she began, but he reached up to touch her face, shaking his head. He couldn't bear such a foreign name in such a precious, intimate situation.

"No. Don't. I'm sorry, but I don't want you to call me that," he mumbled, his lips pushing against hers again briefly. Their foreheads touched, tender and close enough for him to hear her breathe.

Solace stroked the back of her hand against his stubble, seeming not at all confused by his confession. "What, then?" she whispered, accepting as always.

"Bucky," he said, and with the name came a rush of comfort, of vulnerability, of the knowledge that he was a man, and he deserved being fought for, being wanted, and being loved. His life was his own, and he wanted her in it. "My name is Bucky."

* * *

 _Sometimes you gotta just dive in._

 _Many thanks to everyone for the faves, follows, and reviews on the first chapter! I'm so happy people seem to like what they see so far, and I hope you all continue to enjoy the story as it progresses!_

 _As always, reviews are very much appreciated! Thank you so much!_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3**_

The sun wasn't even up yet, but Bucky opened his eyes at 5 a.m. just like always, gazing at the cracked ceiling of his bedroom and listening to nothing but the sound of his own breathing. His first thought was of a mission long since completed, and when he assured himself that was of no concern, his second thought was of Solace.

Despite her wanting to give him money for a cab the night before, he'd assured her he would be fine walking home. It was somewhat of a long walk, but he welcomed the time to sort his thoughts and soothe the passion in his blood. Saying goodbye to her felt like the hardest thing he'd done in a while, and every farewell kiss made it harder to leave without attempting to give her one more. She finally had to giggle and push his face away, placing a final kiss on his cheek before telling him she'd call the next day.

His eyes drifted to his cell phone, charging on the table next to his bed. It was Saturday, and Bucky was quite sure she would not be awake this early, but he somehow wanted the phone to ring anyway. He wanted to hear her voice wishing him a good morning and telling him she missed him as much as he missed her in that moment.

But it was a fleeting hope, and he knew better than to be so attached. People were temporary, as were feelings. Only conflict and pain remained constant, and so, too, did the soldier.

Sighing heavily, he sat up to begin his routine as usual.

Weekends were interesting in that he had a lot of time to himself, but very little to do with that time. He made it a habit to always go grocery shopping on Sunday, but otherwise he spent his time watching the news over meals at a diner down the street, or doing research on various things. The internet was still a relatively new and interesting thing to him, and he could spend hours caught up in the trail of information he pursued. Today was one of those days, in which he holed himself up in a corner of the local library with a borrowed laptop and began reading everything he could about the only people he could bring to mind.

Sometimes he would research himself, although he hadn't done it recently since the events of Washington, D.C. Now that his identity was confirmed, the top search hits were usually about the Winter Soldier and his connection to HYDRA. He didn't like being reminded of the tenuous position he was currently in, so he opted to type in a different name this time.

Captain Steve Rogers was a far more positive subject to research. The tale of the scrawny, sickly Brooklyn boy who became America's super soldier and hero in World War II was a story that never got old to read, even if it did elicit a bit of jealousy. If one had to be a man out of time, being Captain America was probably the best fate. Certainly not the Winter Soldier, the brainwashed tool of war with more blood on his hands than he knew what to do with.

But even as Bucky read the tales of heroism, he could not find it in his heart to be angry at Steve. Something about the pictures, the stories, the very name conjured feelings of affection he could not quite place. He found a particularly noble-looking photo of Captain America in a newspaper, and spent a few minutes sifting through his loose change just so he could photocopy it and place it carefully in his notebook. Interspersed throughout the pages, in between carefully taped pictures and messy sketches, were random notes. Bits and pieces of trivia that seemed to spark something in his memory. He assumed each of those sparks was something important, and recorded them carefully for further meditation.

He still had a few minutes left of internet time, so he decided to look up Solace as well. He didn't know her last name, but he did know about the children's hospital she worked at, so he searched both together. She had a small profile on the hospital's website as part of the staff page, and even if it seemed a little intrusive, he read it over anyway. Solace Adams, age 26. She studied psychology in college before taking an unspecified break for a few years, after which she got her current job as a counselor for children. She seemed to be well-acclaimed by the patients and their parents, who called her thoughtful, empathetic, upbeat, loving, and even "angelic" according to one enthusiastic mother. Sounded about right to him.

His phone vibrated in his pocket just as he logged out of his session, and he smiled to see her name pop up. He all but ran out of the library so he could answer her. "Hello?"

"Hey!" Solace's voice was familiar and cheerful, just like always. "Sorry if I didn't call earlier! I sleep in on the weekend if I don't have to work," she laughed.

"No problem. How are you?"

"I'm great, thanks for asking. What about you? I hope you slept well!"

Bucky considered; after a long walk home, he'd practically collapsed into bed the night before, tired and dreamy with affection. Saying so probably would sound too mushy, though. He grinned, despite the fact that she could not see him. "I slept fine. I'm just doing this and that around town now. Are you busy?"

"Oh… unfortunately, I am right now," she said, sounding apologetic. "I'm out with a friend; he needs help picking out an outfit for some event he needs to go to. So we're at the mall."

It was a reasonable thing for anyone to do with a friend, and Bucky certainly didn't see anything wrong with it. But the mention of this male friend nonetheless caused a brief pinch of uncertainty in his chest. "Oh. Well, have fun. Maybe some other time I'll catch you when you're not busy."

Solace seemed to pause briefly; maybe the disappointment in his voice was more obvious than he thought? "Actually, do you have plans tomorrow? Maybe we can do something together. Dinner? Movie? I don't know."

"I'm not doing anything tomorrow."

"Great, well… maybe I'll call you later and we'll figure something out, ok?" She paused a little, before asking, rather candidly, "Does this mean we're dating?"

"Uh." It was a very good question. Perhaps a younger Bucky Barnes would have been confident in saying yes and assuring a woman she was everything to him. But right now, he didn't know. He wanted this to be important, but at the same time, he didn't have anything to offer or promise her. "Do you… um… want us to be dating?"

Solace laughed gently, not exactly with humor, but with reserved affection. She was always kind towards his awkwardness, it seemed. "I don't want to push you into anything," she said. "We can be whatever you want us to be. But I do… really like you."

Bucky felt like that was probably obvious, but he felt his heart jump a little anyway. "I really like you, too," he responded, feeling bashful and empowered at the same time.

She giggled, apparently tickled at his admission, before he heard her give a cute kiss into the phone. "I'll talk to you later, Bucky," she promised. "Bye."

"Bye."

His previous disappointment of not being able to spend time with her was tempered by the sweetness of her phone call, and he walked home with a faint smile on his face.

Saturday passed into Sunday, and he committed to his routine as best he could. The soldier in him did not like how distracted he was with thoughts of her, though. He kept anticipating her to call throughout the day, and even as he went through the usual sequence of heading to the grocery store and buying whatever meager supplies he required, he felt distracted. When a police car sped by him during his walk home, siren wailing, he jumped nearly a foot in the air, completely unprepared. His heart raced and his fists remained clenched the entire way home.

The soldier's disapproval only worsened when the sun went down and Bucky found himself alone in his bare apartment, picking at a bowl of microwaved ramen. He felt angry with himself for committing so much when there was nothing to commit to yet. It had just been a kiss. Why did he even care that much? He knew nothing ever lasted.

He took a shower to try and relax, but it hardly did anything of the sort. He had to crank the hot water to nearly maximum in order for the aches in his left shoulder to ease and go away, and even then it still felt like something hurt. When he washed, all he could think of her was her comment on the scent of his soap. She really liked it. She really liked _him_.

 _I'm not worthy of this._

Afterwards, when he finished and was preparing to go to bed, his phone finally rang. He stared at it for a moment in confusion, before reaching over and answering it.

"Hello?"

"Bucky? Hey." It was Solace, her voice sounding even more apologetic than before. Perhaps even a little strained. "I just wanted to tell you I was sorry for not calling you today. Stuff came up, and the day was over before I knew it…"

"It's fine," he replied, with mixed feelings. He knew he only had himself to blame for letting it affect him as much as it somehow did. "I'm sure you're a busy woman."

Solace laughed humorlessly, and he got the strange impression that she hadn't really enjoyed whatever it was she had done today. "What time is it… 10 p.m.?" she asked. "I know you probably have work tomorrow, and so do I, but… did you still want to hang out? I'll make you dinner at my place."

"I don't know…" Bucky was hesitant. "You don't have to. We can make plans some other time."

He heard her sigh deeply, and suddenly her voice was sad. "It's not… I don't…" she began, before taking a breath to collect herself. "…I just really need to spend time with you. Today's been… eventful. Maybe you understand?"

He didn't know what she was referring to, but he acknowledged it anyway. "I guess. Am I really good to talk to…?" he asked, skeptical.

"I wouldn't be calling you if you weren't," she teased. "I'll give you money for the cab if you come over."

"I'll come over."

Bucky didn't take the cab again. He liked the walk, and there was really little he had to be concerned about even after dark. He also didn't have much money to spare, even if he _did_ want Solace to recoup him for the fare. Half an hour later, he was knocking on the door to her apartment and smoothing back his hair nervously, trying to look presentable.

She opened the door, and with her came a whiff of something delicious cooking inside. "There you are, just in time," she exclaimed, sounding happy again. "Come on in. Dinner's almost ready."

Bucky stepped inside dutifully and closed the door behind him, watching as Solace rushed back to the kitchen to finish what she was making. Whatever the delicious scent was made his stomach complain; his own dinner hadn't been filling or satisfying. He took off his boots, set them near the door, and cautiously entered further into the apartment.

It was a small place, simply decorated, but cozy and quaint. The first things his eyes were drawn to were several photos in picture frames on a nearby table, just behind the couch in her living room area. He admired the photos of Solace herself; one appeared to be her high school senior picture, many years old, while another one portrayed her wearing a cap and gown at what looked like a college graduation ceremony, holding her diploma victoriously.

Another picture that caught his attention was of Solace standing with who he presumed were her parents; her father was a tall Caucasian man with dirty blond hair, proudly wrapping his arm around his daughter, while her mother was a much shorter, sweet-looking Japanese woman, hugging both her husband and Solace affectionately. Bucky smiled at the scene, wondering if they would like someone like him in their daughter's life. Well, ignoring all that Winter Soldier stuff, of course. The final photo that caught his attention depicted Solace standing next to a tall, African American man with a wild mess of dreadlocks; the two were smiling goofily for the camera and waving enthusiastically. They looked like they were having a lot of fun together.

Bucky tilted his head, both curious and uncertain as to who this last individual could be. He couldn't be related to her, so who was he? A boyfriend? Surely not. Solace wasn't so insensitive that she would kiss Bucky and then invite him to her apartment the next evening, while already dating someone else.

Or… was she? He reminded himself that he didn't know her all that well yet. They'd been talking for two months, but this was only the second occasion they'd spent time together outside of using the bus. Plus they never really pried into each other's private lives before. He realized that there could be plenty she was hiding, just like he tried so hard to.

 _No. I trust her. I have to._

"Dinner is ready," Solace practically sang from the kitchen, stepping out so she could see him. "I hope you like spaghetti. I… also hope you're not allergic to anything, either. I guess I should have asked first…"

Bucky looked away from the photographs and shook his head. "No, it's fine. That sounds great," he called back. "You really didn't have to go through all the trouble, though."

"It's no trouble at all," she laughed. Their eyes finally met, and all of Bucky's bottled up unhappiness from that day instantly disappeared. He was suddenly glad he chose to come here.

The dinner was simple but delicious. Her spaghetti was much preferred to the ramen he'd tried eating earlier, and he found himself apologetically asking if he could have seconds, thirds. She just giggled and told him she was grateful she wouldn't have to worry about leftovers. She asked about his day, and he tried his best to make it not sound as boring as it was.

"What about you?" he asked. "It… sounded like you had a rough day."

"Yeah…" Solace poked at a stray meatball on her plate, suddenly self-conscious. "I don't really want to just… dump all of it on you, though."

Bucky gave her a serious look. "You said you needed to talk about it," he reminded her. "I can't say I'll have any good words of comfort for you, but, I mean… I'll listen. If that's what you need."

Her eyes darted away shyly. "It's not often I get other people to listen to my problems," she admitted. "I'm usually the one who listens. It can be… draining."

He sat back in his chair and glanced over their plates. They were mostly empty. He jerked his head towards the living room and tried as charming a smile as he could muster. "Sit with me and let's hear it."

As he expected, Solace was only too happy to comply.

A few minutes later they were curled up on the couch together, with her comfortably nestled into the space under his right arm. He liked how soft her couch was, and he watched lazily as she turned on the TV and turned the volume down to low, enough to be a soft hum in the background but not much else. "It's hard for me to concentrate when it's quiet," she explained, with a nervous laugh.

He let her cling close, and thought he could detect the anxiety in each and every soft breath she made. His lips brushed her forehead comfortingly. "It's ok."

It was hard to imagine, but he realized for the first time that maybe Solace was just as pent up as him. For different reasons, certainly, but her guard was up just like his was, and she was desperate for someone to relax with.

Once settled, Solace proceeded to explain why she was so upset. Despite it being her day off, she had had to go to the hospital that afternoon; there had been an emergency of a sort and they needed her skills, though they hadn't explained why until she showed up. One of her former patients, a 12-year old boy named Alec Ternz, was back in the hospital. Just eight months prior, Alec had heart surgery to repair a malfunctioning valve, and upon recovering had been able to go home. But now he was back following some terrible trauma; the amount of police in and around the hospital had concerned her and caused her to rush to his room immediately.

Upon speaking with the boy, Solace discovered that Alec had witnessed a horrible crime that morning. A man had burst into the house and assassinated his father right before his eyes. Though the assassin had not harmed Alec, the boy had described with great fear the piercing gaze the man had given him before rushing out the back door.

"They brought Alec back to the hospital because they were concerned about his heart condition, though everything checked out just fine," Solace added, obviously emotionally affected by the whole situation. "The police hoped they could get me to interrogate him better, find more details."

Bucky nodded, digesting the story with interest. Of course it was a shame the young boy had to witness such a thing, but violence no longer shocked or horrified him anymore. He was more curious about the crime itself. "Who would want his father dead?" he questioned.

"He was some big shot businessman," she explained, fidgeting and pushing herself closer into his body. "Maybe he did business with the wrong people or something? I honestly don't know, and the police didn't have any theories yet. All Alec said about the killer is that he wore a mask… but even scarier than that, his eyes were still visible. He looked so… cold-blooded and merciless. His exact words."

A masked assassin did seem scary, and Bucky was worried what that could mean. Was this city in danger, or was it an isolated hit? Either scenario was likely. Already he was turning plans over in his brain if this would be risky to him; suppose they brought in government agents, or even the Avengers…?

"I don't know why it affected me so much," Solace continued, oblivious to Bucky's thoughts being elsewhere. "I guess it was… that Alec was so afraid. There was nothing I could do to make him feel better. He was convinced the masked man was going to come back for him."

"That's… terrible," Bucky said, studying her. The sadness in her eyes was unmistakable. He already knew she was incredibly empathetic to others, but to see her so affected by this boy and his trauma was heartbreaking. "I hope the police catch this guy. That kid shouldn't have to be so scared… and neither should you."

Solace stared up at him, appreciation in her eyes. "I know it's a difficult subject to hear," she said. "But thanks for listening anyway. And please… don't tell anyone about these details. The investigation is still ongoing. Plus, I really shouldn't be disclosing personal information like that about patients… I just didn't know who else to talk to."

"Don't worry," he replied, his hand brushing over her arm affectionately, "I won't tell anyone."

But even as Bucky tried to soothe her, tried to give her all the support he could muster, the soldier in him couldn't help but think of how ironic it would have been if _he_ had been the assassin in question. She trusted him so much, and it was almost frightening how easily that trust could be abused.

He felt her sigh, before she leaned over and grabbed the remote control again. "I did make you dinner," she mused, letting her eyes drift up to his again. "I still owe you a movie. Any requests?"

Bucky laughed softly. He had no idea what any recent movies were, much less anything in the last few decades. "Not really… I don't watch movies much."

"I'll pick, then."

She sifted through the digital catalog, with Bucky only vaguely interested in what she was looking for. He was more interested in analyzing her features close up, regardless of whether he had already seen them many times before. Her hair was in a familiar pair of long pigtails, giving her a young appearance. Tonight she wore a black skirt with a creamy keyhole sweater, long-sleeved with a cozy neck, but giving a startlingly playful peek at the curve of her breasts. He tried really hard not to stare, but it was difficult.

"I was curious," he said, desperate for an excuse to take his eyes off her chest. "I saw this picture earlier. Is he a friend of yours?" He picked up the photo of Solace with the laughing, dreadlocked man from the sofa table behind the couch, and showed it to her.

Solace looked at it quickly, before laughing. "Oh, that?" she exclaimed, turning her attention back to the TV. "Yeah, that's my friend, Jasc. He's the one I was helping shop for clothing yesterday. He's a really great guy. We've known each other since elementary school."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mm-hm." Solace finally appeared to have chosen a movie. She hit play and turned up the volume as it began. "He's like a brother to me; he knows me better than anyone. You'll probably meet him sometime."

Bucky nodded and replaced the photo back where he found it, before settling into a comfortable position for the movie. Well, the fact that she described this man as a brother was reassuring. He didn't like the thought of being jealous—Solace was free to do whatever she wanted, and Bucky would never tell her otherwise—but it was still secretly a relief to know she wasn't interested in someone else.

The movie Solace chose was called "The Princess Bride." It was light-hearted, quirky, and romantic. Bucky had vague memories of movies he'd seen as a young man, usually with another woman, hoping the dramatic adventure and romance would entice her to kiss him at the end of the evening. But movies certainly had changed since then, and he found himself absorbed in the story, entertained at the narrative and characters. The scene with the torture machine, however, did make him cringe, and he had to tilt his face against the soft, floral scent of Solace's hair to distract himself.

She seemed to respond to his gesture, brief as it was, and she tilted her head to give him a comforting smile. Her hand smoothed gently over his cheek, before reaching up to tangle in his hair and pull him close for a kiss. Her assertiveness made him shiver, and before he knew it, he had pushed her down against the couch and kissed her back, deeply.

Bucky wasn't sure how the movie ended, though Solace assured him later it was "happily-ever-after." All he remembered was the taste of her lips and how he suddenly couldn't get enough. She whined happily against his mouth and wrapped her arms around his neck, prompting him to trail his kisses down hers just so he could hear her cry out more. It was tenuous, shaky ground—he didn't want to go too far, after all—but his heart was pounding feverishly and he didn't want this feeling to stop.

"I don't want to leave this," he growled against her neck, partially to her and partially to himself. "I don't want to leave _you_."

Solace stroked her fingers through his hair lovingly, kissing his cheek, and he bit his lip hard at just how vulnerable and weak she made him feel. "Stay with me as long as you want," she whispered. "I'll give you everything you need."

He shook his head against her and kissed her firmly. "This is all I need."

He wasn't sure what else was said, or what soft kisses or touches they exchanged after that, but when Bucky opened his eyes at 5 a.m. and found himself still on her couch, tangled in her arms and listening to her gentle breathing, he knew his routine had to change. He had no choice. She was part of his everything, and he could never go back now.

* * *

 _They didn't do anything but cuddle and kiss. Promise. ;)_

 _So honored by all the faves, follows, and reviews so far! Thank you so much, and I hope you continue to read and review. I'm liking the schedule I'm on so far with updates, so expect a new chapter every Thursday unless something major comes up!_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4**_

Everything changed after that weekend.

It wasn't for lack of trying to resist, though. Bucky tried very dutifully to stick to his schedule that week, even when he knew Solace would be there at the bus stop and he would never be able to say no to her good morning kisses. The first few days were innocent enough, but by Friday morning—when she made a beeline down the sidewalk for him and, without so much as a word, grabbed him and dragged him around the corner, pulling him into a hot and passionate kiss—Bucky realized it was hopeless. They were in a serious relationship, even if they hadn't put any labels on it quite yet. That evening, he'd dutifully showed up at her apartment again for dinner, fidgeting and hoping he wasn't making a mistake. He cared about her, deeply, but he also didn't want to overstep any boundaries.

Fortunately, Solace seemed to feel the same way. He recognized by now that she was the initiator, preferring to take charge and lightly coax him into something passionate. And yet, they were both still careful; if his kisses on her neck dipped too low, she would tilt his chin and laugh gently as she guided him back up to her lips. If her hands got too adventurous under the fabric of his shirt, he would softly take hold of her wrists and pin them above her head, giving her a playful smile while silently reminding her that there were lines neither of them wanted to cross yet.

The soldier did not like surrendering to her, but Bucky loved it. She was the only thing in his life right now that could pull him out of the shell that was the Winter Soldier, and make him forget there was a part of him he had no control over and never would.

"What do you do for work?" Solace asked him later in the evening, sleepy with her face low on his chest. At first, Bucky hadn't been sure he liked her so close to where flesh met the metal of his left arm, but then he realized she only wanted to listen to his heartbeat. "I don't think I ever asked you."

"It's nothing special," he murmured, stroking her long hair and admiring how small and soft she felt against him. "I work at a second-hand auto parts place. I pull stuff out of old cars and put them in other ones."

It was a grungy, out-of-the-way place to work, overseen by a man who didn't ask about backgrounds, and his employees didn't tell. Most of his coworkers were content to chat all day to each other in various foreign languages, oblivious to the fact that Bucky understood every single word. When one of the other mechanics had tried to push Bucky around and establish a pecking order, he was instead sent to the hospital with a broken arm. The boss had just laughed, and the other employees left Bucky alone from that point on. He made only enough money to survive, but that was fine; Bucky was more interested in remaining anonymous, and getting lost in his work for several hours until he could go home.

"Oh. It sounds interesting."

He knew she was lying, but he appreciated her comment anyway. She always had a way of being uplifting, even if it was difficult to do.

An unfamiliar ringtone pierced the silence of the room, and Bucky felt his whole body tense at the sound; it took him a moment to realize it was Solace's cell phone on the table nearby. She reluctantly rolled off him to answer it, while Bucky remained on the couch, motionless, closing his eyes and missing the lack of warmth in the space she used to be.

"Hello? …No, it's my day off, you know that… W-what? What?! You're not serious, right? …Oh God… O-Ok, I'll be right there. Ok. Bye."

The tone of her voice had gone from confused to panicked in only the space of a few seconds, and Bucky looked up at her as she hung up. Her face had gone pale, and she searched his blue eyes desperately for guidance.

"T-that was my boss," she said, visibly trembling. "She… she said Alec is gone. They think he was kidnapped. The police want everyone related to him and this case to report in for questioning. They're desperate to gather all the clues they can."

Bucky's eyes widened at this news, and his thoughts immediately raced to the description of the masked assassin that had killed the boy's father. He could tell Solace had come to the same conclusion just by the distress on her face, and his heart ached for her. "I understand," he whispered, reaching out to touch her hand. "Do you want me to… go with you? I wouldn't feel right letting you travel alone this late."

Solace looked surprised, perhaps rightly so. There was an unspoken understanding between them that Bucky was hiding from someone, something, and every so often he wondered what she thought about him. Did she suspect he had something to hide? Did she think he was a criminal who had done something unspeakable, and that was why she never pried, never questioned, never wanted to know? He hated the thought that she had any doubts about trusting him… perhaps because he knew that in the end, she couldn't.

Я даже недолж на быть с тобой сдесь. Простите меня. (1)

Простите меня…

"Bucky?"

He jumped and stared at her, wildly, and realized he was breathing hard.

Her brow crinkled, perplexed. "Did you just speak _Russian_?"

 _Shit._

The silence between them was terrifying, and he thought for a moment he was going to black out. All he could see and breathe and feel was the chill of Siberia again.

"Bucky. Relax. You're ok."

He smelled the sweetness of her hair before he felt her lips on his, and his body went weak when she kissed him. His eyes opened again.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, helplessly angry with himself. "I want to go with you. I just… want you to be safe."

Solace stared at him for far too long before she finally nodded. "All right."

They took a cab together, understanding time was of the essence. The two sat in silence the entire ride, and Bucky couldn't tell who was more apprehensive—her or him.

He kept his eyes down when they entered the hospital, trying not to draw the attention of any of the police officers standing around. Solace identified herself to one of them, who carelessly waved the both of them through to the elevators and up to the 5th floor of the hospital.

"Who's that?" questioned a nurse when they arrived, gazing at Bucky with wide, enamored eyes. He looked away uncomfortably.

"My boyfriend." Solace's response was immediate, and the self-assurance in her voice made Bucky turn red. "He gave me a ride. Is it ok if he stays nearby?"

The nurse seemed a little disappointed, but pointed out a small, private room nearby for him to wait while Solace spoke with detectives. Solace smiled and kissed his cheek reassuringly before leaving, and Bucky was relieved to close the door to the room and have it all to himself. It was a small yet comfortable space filled with soft furniture, a television, and several magazines and boxes of tissue. He quickly determined it was a room where difficult news had to be discussed with families of patients.

The soldier in him also made sure to analyze the layout of this unfamiliar place, calculating how easily the window could be broken if he needed to make an escape. He crossed over to peek outside, and even though it was dark out, he could make out a few ledges and areas where he could leap to safety if need be. He digested the information and sat down, trying not to be so uptight.

It was a long time—3 hours, in fact—before Solace came back, and Bucky ended up falling asleep. He woke up with a start when he finally heard the door open, but was relieved to see it was only her. She looked incredibly tired and unhappy.

"Are you all right?" he asked, as she came to him and buried herself in his arms.

"I'm fine," she sighed. "We can go now."

The two left without incident and called another cab to go back to Solace's apartment. She ended up falling asleep against him during the ride, prompting him to gather her in his arms after paying the fare.

"That's awful sweet'a you, kid," the cab driver remarked with a gruff smile, lighting a cigarette and watching Bucky go.

Bucky paused for only a moment at the praise, looking down at the woman he carried. Despite himself, he smiled too. "Always treat your dame sweet."

* * *

When he opened his eyes at 5 a.m. the next morning, Bucky found himself puzzled by the unfamiliar ceiling above him. It took him a moment to remember he had fallen asleep on Solace's couch the night before. After arriving from the hospital, he had somehow carried her up the stairs to her apartment, found her keys in her purse, and let himself in, trying not to trip over anything or otherwise jostle the woman in his arms. And as if she were a precious treasure, he carefully brought her to her room and laid her gently in bed.

Bucky remembered staring at Solace for a while after setting her down, admiring the beauty and serenity in her face that was not present when she had been awake and worrying over Alec's kidnapping. He then politely tugged off her shoes and urged her out of her coat before tucking her under the blankets. As an afterthought, he made sure to place a gentle kiss on her cheek, making her wiggle a little in her sleep. He smiled.

He'd considered going home, but it was so incredibly late that he didn't have the energy to try. He also didn't know how he'd lock up the apartment behind him without stealing her keys. Eventually he chose to just collapse on the couch, falling asleep almost as soon as his head hit the cushions.

Even now he was still exhausted, having only gotten 3 hours of sleep, so he barely remembered closing his eyes and dozing off once more. He didn't wake up again until he felt gentle lips against his, spurring him to open his eyes and see Solace leaning over him.

"Good morning, kitten," he mumbled, before he could even catch himself.

Solace turned red, not expecting such a response, and she laughed nervously. "Oh! Uh… good morning."

Bucky rubbed his eyes and tried to sort his thoughts out. "Sorry about last night," he apologized sleepily. "I hope I wasn't too intrusive. Going in your bedroom and all—"

"Oh, don't even worry about that," she replied, easily waving off his concern. He still found it strange that she was so… relaxed about him being in and out of her apartment all the time. "It was very thoughtful of you to tuck me in. Thanks for taking care of me."

He smiled weakly and squeezed her hand, hoping that she would curl up with him on the couch and they could sleep some more, but instead Solace wandered off, ready to start the day. He sat up and stretched, listening to her opening her refrigerator, rattling pots and pans, and clinking dishes around. "Are you making something?" he asked.

"Breakfast," she replied. "Bacon and eggs cool with you?"

"Of course." He wondered, vaguely, if this was what it felt like to be married to a woman. Getting to live with her and feel happy and comfortable doing everyday things with her. He also wondered if, once upon a time, Bucky Barnes had planned to have such a life—getting married, having a family, surrounding himself with the idyllic warmth of loved ones. A normal life. A life that the Winter Soldier was not destined for.

A few months ago, he might have sunk into bitterness at the realization that HYDRA had truly taken so much from him. But now, peering over the back of the couch and glimpsing Solace's sweet smile as she cooked, he realized it wasn't all bad. If he lived a normal life like he was supposed to… he wouldn't be here right now. He probably would have died long ago and would never have met Solace.

The thought made his heart ache, and he sighed, loud enough for Solace to look over at him.

"You ok?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Bucky assured. He meant it, too.

Breakfast was, of course, delicious. Solace even made some coffee to go with it. She seemed distant, though, and Bucky could only imagine she was thinking about the night before. He didn't know if she was going to tell him anything or not, but it must not have been promising news.

He chose not to ask, instead contemplating the food on his plate, and whether or not he should excuse himself to go home and take a shower. He dared not take one _here_ , in her apartment; the very thought was mortifyingly inappropriate… not to mention risky. If she happened to see his cybernetic arm…

"I'm sorry if I'm not saying much," Solace apologized, after they had both finished their plates and were clearing the table together. "Obviously a lot of the stuff the police talked to me about last night, it's… classified."

"No, I understand," Bucky replied softly, watching as she set the dishes in the sink. Impulsively, he came up behind her and pushed her against the counter, making her gasp. He kissed the back of her neck and nuzzled her softly. "We don't have to talk about it."

She sighed and tilted her head back against his shoulder, enjoying the way his stubble brushed against her skin. "Only thing I will say… it was clear Alec was kidnapped. The window in his room was broken and there were signs of a scuffle," she said. "I just… can't believe it. I feel like I should have told the police to pay more attention to him. He kept saying how the assassin was going to come back and get him. I just thought he was scared…"

Bucky hugged her tight against him, irritated at whoever this assassin was. For threatening someone Solace obviously cared about, and making her feel guilty about it. "Solace, it's not your fault," he soothed. "How could you have known that guy would come back? Please don't blame yourself."

Her lack of response made him hope, briefly, that she believed him, but he was disappointed when she instead pulled free from his embrace, turning to face him. "You're not the kind of person who looks away when something bad happens, are you?" she asked.

Bucky raised his eyebrows at the sudden question. "I… don't know. I don't think so."

"I always felt like you weren't. I don't think you want to draw attention to yourself, but you also don't want to just ignore people. That's why you helped me that one day. On the bus."

He laughed uncomfortably at the memory. "I… guess. It might have just been you, though," he pointed out.

Solace shook her head. "No, I don't think it's that. I think you're really a good person."

Bucky attempted a smile, but it was obviously half-hearted. He certainly didn't _think_ he was a good person. Maybe at one point in his life, he was. But after HYDRA had their way with him… no. He might not have chosen to do the things he did, but they were still done by his hands. Nothing was going to erase that.

"I don't think I'm the person you think I am," he muttered.

For a moment, he thought Solace's eyes looked sad, before she moved to wrap her arms around his waist, hugging him fiercely. "I just thought… you'd understand how I feel. The world can be such an ugly place, and I… I wish I could close my eyes to all of it," she said softly, sounding more serious than he'd ever heard her before. "But I can't. It hurts. If I could, I'd help everyone. Take all their pain so they don't have to feel it anymore."

He kissed her hair gently. "Please don't say that," he said, squeezing her tighter, wanting to hide her away from the tragedy of the world so she wouldn't be hurt by it. But inwardly, a part of him laughed, at the irony of attempting to keep her safe in the embrace of the Winter Soldier. "You can't protect everyone."

"Maybe not. But… I think those who have the means to help… should. That's our responsibility to each other as people." Solace sighed and reluctantly pulled away from Bucky again, gazing up at him with a sad smile. "I want that responsibility even if I can only do so much. I just wish… it were enough."

He stared at her, solemnly. "I understand," he whispered. "I wish it were enough, too."

* * *

After comforting Solace as best as he could, Bucky excused himself to go home and take care of a few things. He could tell she probably wanted some time alone, too, and she seemed to be appreciative of that. She apologized for being difficult, he assured her she wasn't, and she kissed him goodbye with the promise that they'd do something special tomorrow.

"Everything I do with you is special," he said, stroking her cheek briefly before stepping out of the apartment.

"You don't have to say that," Solace protested, even while blushing. He was getting more and more sentimental as time went by, and she wasn't used to it. To be fair, though… neither was he. "I just want you to be happy."

Bucky glanced at her one more time, a rush of emotion filling him at her words. Every time he thought he had his feelings under control, she would always say something that made him remember why he loved being with her. Now he didn't want to leave; he wanted to just stay and do whatever he could to assure her he _was_ happy. He hated that she doubted herself, when she had done nothing wrong. Only everything right, as far as he was concerned.

"You've been making me happy since the day we met," he whispered.

Solace bit her lip, gazing desperately at him. She looked like she wanted to say more, but instead nodded quickly, flashing him a grateful smile before closing the door.

Bucky took a deep breath, smiled, and left for home.

The rest of the day was some semblance of his usual routine. He showered, dressed, and tried to catch up on the few chores he had. He went to the coin laundromat down the street and sat alone in the corner for a few hours, doing his laundry and reading through his notebook again. He thought maybe he could jog his memories by looking over his notes and drawing upon the sentiments that Solace left with him. When he flipped to the picture he had saved of Captain America again, his thoughts wandered back to their battle in Washington, D.C. He closed his eyes and remembered how Steve pulled all his punches, and refused to deal a killing blow even if it would mean his own death. Bucky couldn't understand why his enemy was so reluctant to fight back, until that moment—those words—

"… _I'm with you till the end of the line."_

Even now, remembering Steve's voice made Bucky's heart sink in a mix of pain and recognition, knowing it was meaningful and meant everything, yet he could not remember why. He gritted his teeth and stared at the face of the man who said he was his friend. The man who put every ounce of faith in him, and he could not live up to it. He nearly _killed_ Steve that day, after all. The only reason Bucky saved his life at the last minute was because he forced himself to believe what he could not remember—that Steve would do anything for him, and he'd do anything for Steve in return.

Bucky had to be _some_ kind of good person to be worth all that, right?

He sighed, slamming the notebook shut and putting it away. Steve thought so. Solace had said so, too. It was just so hard to believe something he could not remember, and everything he _did_ remember pointed to the contrary. The Winter Soldier. His missions. Even with his memory wiped time and time again, he still remembered every kill.

After taking his laundry home, Bucky decided to change the routine up and get his grocery shopping out of the way, in anticipation of spending time with Solace tomorrow. It was admittedly a boring and lonely prospect to have to go home to his empty apartment and make himself dinner that night, but he reminded himself that he and Solace had only been… dating?... for about a week now. It was a little too early to get used to her always making him dinner and cuddling with him afterwards.

He frowned a little as he left the store with his groceries, making the walk home to his apartment. They _were_ seeing each other, weren't they? Solace called him her boyfriend. Did that make it official? Now he felt sort of dumb that he hadn't been the one to ask her out. She was the one always taking charge and inviting him to do things. While he didn't exactly mind that, he did wish he could be more of a gentleman to her, sometimes.

In the middle of his musings, Bucky passed by the diner where he often ate for breakfast. He glanced idly inside the windows and noticed that everyone was crowded up at the bar, staring at a television set intently. From what he could see on the screen, it looked like some kind of local news report. Curious, and a little concerned, he decided to step inside.

The waitress waved at him immediately in recognition, and he accepted her offer of coffee. He squeezed into the very last seat on the end of the bar, but was disappointed to find that he couldn't really see the TV at all from this angle. When the waitress returned with his coffee, he tried his best to give her a charming smile.

"I couldn't help but notice the commotion over there," he said, in that particular low tone that he recalled Solace loving so much. The waitress had a similar sort of reaction—she blushed and forgot about finishing her rounds at the bar, interested in making conversation with him instead. "What's going on, if you don't mind me asking?"

The waitress smoothed at her hair nervously, trying to put on her best face. Bucky never really talked to anyone much at the diner, so this was probably a surprise for the woman, and she was determined to make the most of the opportunity. "Oh, there's a special news report," she explained, leaning close while Bucky stirred a little cream into his cup. "Apparently there was a bank robbery somewhere northeast a few hours ago? A masked man came in with a gun and demanded money. After they gave him what he wanted, he set a bomb behind him and escaped in a car. The bomb completely tore up the bank, but luckily everyone had time to escape, so no one was hurt."

"Oh wow," Bucky replied, feigning shock. Not that such a crime wasn't serious, of course. He simply had been more interested in whether there was news about Alec's kidnapping. He sipped on his coffee and let his mind focus; over the chatter of the other diner patrons, he could hear the news report in fragments.

"…Witnesses… an accomplice… Masked man was described wearing combat gear… wielding assault rifle… Considered highly dangerous… Any information, please call…"

"I just can't believe this world sometimes," the waitress continued, interrupting Bucky's concentration. "It's like there are maniacs everywhere nowadays. I wish the Avengers could just… sweep the city once in a while and make things safer."

Bucky shrugged at the idea. "I don't know if that would make things safer," he mused. "Heroes don't always chase villains. Sometimes the villains chase the heroes, and they'll do anything they can to challenge them."

It was a cynical remark, but not entirely born out of bitterness. Bucky was familiar with the events of only a few months ago in Sokovia, from news reports and online research. Public details of what truly happened were sketchy, but he had pieced enough together to understand that sometimes, in their zeal to protect the world, heroes could ultimately produce their greatest enemies.

The waitress gave him a startled look, and Bucky took that as his cue to pay for the coffee and leave.

After arriving home and making himself dinner, Bucky spent the rest of the evening pondering the bits of information he heard from the news report. He almost wanted to call Solace and ask if she'd heard about it, but he decided not to make her dwell on more negative news. She had enough to worry about with Alec's disappearance. Instead, he decided to jump into bed early, and spend more time with his notebook.

When he flipped it open again, and found the sternly noble, yet kind face of Captain America staring back at him, Bucky leaned back against his pillows and closed his eyes. All he could see were the images and words at the museum, facts and figures that did nothing to explain why Steve Rogers would risk everything for him. They were supposedly best friends, but Bucky was still grasping, trying to understand why.

As fatigue set in, and he fell asleep with the notebook still resting in his lap, Bucky thought he heard himself calling out, desperately, even as he refused to look away. He tried to remain strong, tried to find some way to get them both out of the smoke and the flame. But inside, he could feel his heart breaking, at the thought that he could lose the one that was everything to him.

 _Not without you._

* * *

 _Translations:_

(1) Я даже недолж на быть с тобой сдесь. Простите меня. _[Ya dazhe nedolzh na byt' s toboy sdes'. Prostite menya.] – "I shouldn't even be here with you. I'm sorry."_

* * *

 _Mysterious stuff's going down. D:_

 _Once again, thank you all so much for the support you've been showing. Please consider reviewing; it's much appreciated!_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5**_

Sunday morning found Bucky staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, up well before the sun as usual. He frowned at his reflection, wondering if he ought to cut his hair. It had been this length for so long that he was comfortable with the look, but the soldier in him thought it was conspicuous. If he cut it short, it would only help him better elude those hunting the Winter Soldier. Some military—or perhaps even some old-fashioned—aspect of him also disapproved of the length, thinking he looked way too unkempt.

Bucky considered for a moment, then grinned and decided against it. He kind of liked the way Solace tugged on it when they kissed.

He expected her to call him that morning, so they could coordinate whatever her "special" plans for the day were. But as the day progressed, Solace still hadn't called, even after noon rolled around. He called her a few times, just to be sure she was ok, but all of them went to voicemail. By 3 p.m., he was starting to get concerned. There was surely a good reason for Solace's lack of communication, but his gut instinct told him otherwise.

Bucky took the time to get dressed, before heading straight for her apartment; by now, it was a rather familiar route. Once at her door, he took a moment to catch his breath, and then knocked. What seemed like several long moments passed, before he knocked again.

He felt his jaw tighten with uncertainty. _Dammit, come on. Don't make me panic, don't make me break in your door, don't make me ruin everything just because I cared too much—_

The sound of the chain moving on the other side of the door was practically music to his ears. A rush of relieved excitement went through him when the door was unlocked and opened, though it quickly turned to confusion when Solace appeared in the doorway. She didn't exactly look ready to go out—it smelled like she had just showered and her hair was still wet—and she was wearing a tiny tank-top and cutoff shorts, both of which showed off her legs and tummy. Bucky awkwardly tried to meet her eyes instead of staring at all that skin, but found her looking away from him instead.

"Oh… what are you doing here?" she asked, sounding hesitant.

"I was worried about you," he replied, hoping he didn't seem too clingy, that he wasn't making her uncomfortable. "I tried to call you, but you weren't picking up, so…"

Startled, she finally looked up to gauge his concern. "Oh really? I'm so sorry! I must have forgotten to unmute my phone. I really didn't mean to worry you, Bucky, I'm sorry—"

She turned to go back into the apartment and let him inside, but Bucky's hand shot out and grabbed her by the chin, turning her face back towards him. His eyes narrowed. "What _happened_ to you?"

Not only did Solace have a huge black eye on the right side of her face, but there was a small cut underneath her eye as well.

She stared at him, her expression nearly fearful, but she set her jaw firmly. "It's… nothing, really…"

"You don't possibly think I'm going to believe that, do you?" He couldn't figure out what made him angrier—that someone had actually hurt Solace, or that she would lie about it. "Who did this? Is it someone you know?"

Solace jerked herself free and tried to retreat backwards into the safety of her apartment, but Bucky's fist slammed into the door before it could close on him. She bit her lip as she watched him come inside and shut the door behind him.

"I… knew you'd be upset," she said, quietly. "I really don't want you to worry—"

"Why wouldn't I be worried about you?" he snapped, unable to understand why she was so hesitant to tell him. "Solace… please, just explain it to me. Is there some other guy? Is he treating you bad? I'm not going to be mad at you, I just—"

"No!" Solace looked even more terrified, and her brown eyes filled with tears. She instantly ran to him and slid her arms around him in a desperate hug. "Bucky, no… No no no… please, don't think that. It's not like that at all. It… it was… just some asshole. I don't know him."

Bucky studied her face suspiciously. If it was a stranger, then why had it been so hard for her to admit it? "What, just some… random guy? What happened?"

"Oh… he… I went out to pick up some food last night, and this guy saw me walk by. So... he tried to hit on me. I… told him to leave me alone and he got feisty. I slapped him, so… he slapped me back." Her voice was… oddly apologetic in tone, and the soldier in him twitched. She was still hiding something.

"That's really all it was?" he pressed, trying to be gentle, even if he could feel himself breathing harder, fighting back a rush of fury. He could not fathom why anyone would harm Solace, and the fact that they had was unbearable. His left fist tightened so hard, he thought he could hear the mechanisms in it grinding from the strain. "You didn't call the police or anything?"

Solace sniffled hard against him, and he let his arm wrap around her for comfort. "I just… I wanted to get away, that's all," she said. "I wasn't really thinking. But then I woke up this morning and realized how horrible it looked, and all I could think of was how upset you were going to be…"

Bucky stroked her hair softly, trying to calm her as much as he was trying to calm himself, too. Even if she wasn't telling him the whole truth… she still had been harmed. She wasn't making that up. "Why did you think I'd be upset?" he questioned, curious to know.

She looked up at him, eyes even puffier with her tears, and he fought the urge to cringe at the sight of her injury. "I… just thought you wouldn't like to see me hurt."

Heaving a sigh, Bucky leaned in and kissed her black eye with a soft brush of his lips. "You're right," he whispered. "I _don't_ like it. No one hurts my girl and gets away with it."

Solace blushed and tried to wipe her tears. "Your girl, huh?"

"Of course. I keep showing up at your doorstep, don't I?"

She smiled and stood on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck in a tight hug. "That's true," she murmured. "You're so sweet, Bucky… I'm really sorry I didn't tell you when it happened."

"Shh. Don't apologize to me. Just… promise if you see the guy again, you'll point him out to me." His voice was a low, threatening growl in her ear, making her wiggle as he squeezed her closer. "He can slap _me_ and see what happens."

Solace laughed, surprised at his sudden ferocity, and kissed his mouth hard. "Oh, don't worry, baby. I will," she grinned.

He smiled and kissed her back, inwardly wondering if she knew the threat in his voice was completely serious.

* * *

Though Bucky still had his concerns, he allowed himself to set them aside—for the time being—in favor of going out to a nice dinner with Solace that evening. Regardless of her injury, she still wanted to do that something special she promised him. She insisted they eat at one of her favorite sit-down pizza restaurants, one that served what she claimed were the best New York-style pizzas she'd ever tried. Having no particular opinion about any style of pizza, Bucky agreed to her suggestion.

"Am I dressed for the occasion?" he asked, and Solace took a moment to size up his clothing. He didn't have too many different outfits, but today he tried to look a little nicer for her; he wore his least-worn pair of jeans and pair of work boots, coupled with a brown long-sleeved shirt and a green canvas jacket he'd recently bought for work. He'd tried really hard to shave a little and make his hair look nice too, and it seemed to have paid off. Solace nodded approvingly as she circled him, pretending to judge his apparel.

"Well, it's not _that_ fancy a restaurant," she replied, though her attention was obviously elsewhere, enjoying the view.

Bucky snickered and stuffed his hands back in his pockets, trying to hide the black gloves he always wore. He wasn't sure they really matched, but they had to go with every outfit. His right glove had the fingers removed so he could more easily write and do other intricate things, but the other remained intact; it had to, after all, to obscure the metal there.

"Oh, so you're saying I'm just good enough," he teased.

"Don't be silly." Solace stuck her tongue out at him. "You look great. I really like the look."

He pretended to shrug off the compliment, but inwardly was embarrassed. Sometimes he didn't believe that Solace really found him that attractive, though he knew she'd scold him if he ever said it aloud.

"Well, what about you?" he questioned, with a meaningful glance up and down. "Don't tell me that's your fancy outfit."

Solace blushed deeply and pretended to try and cover herself with her arms. "No, I'm not ready yet!" she laughed. "I still have to dry my hair and do my makeup too. You don't mind waiting, right?"

Bucky waved her off and headed towards her couch to have a seat. "The best dames are always worth waiting for," he quipped, making her blush once again. "Take as long as you want."

"Thanks. I'll try not to take too long," she cooed, heading for the bathroom. He heard the door shut and lock behind her.

Left with nothing else to do, Bucky decided to grab the remote control off her coffee table to turn on the television. He was interested in finding out if there was any news coverage of the weekend's events—Alec's kidnapping, and the bank robber. He flipped channels until he found the local news station, before tossing the remote back on the table. In the process, it landed and pushed several pieces of paper off the tabletop, scattering them to the carpet. Bucky slid off the couch and began to pick them up as he kept his eyes on the TV.

They weren't talking about the stories he was hoping for, but he did manage to catch the tail-end of a different story. "Mysterious Masked Brawlers: Friend or Foe?" the headline read at the bottom of the screen. Accompanying the headline was a blurry surveillance camera shot of two individuals engaged in a fist fight. Other than the fact that they both seemed to be wearing some kind of headgear to obscure their facial features, not much else could be discerned from the picture.

"…Any viewers who witnessed the late-night brawl between these unknown individuals are being asked by police to come forward with information. It is possible they are persons of interest in the recent rash of crimes throughout the city this weekend."

Bucky frowned as the program continued on to its next local story; he had actually hoped to learn more about the masked fighters and what they were doing. It seemed like costumed or themed criminals were popping up more and more as the days went by, ever since heroes like Iron Man and Captain America became iconic and well-known to the world. He recalled what he had mentioned to the waitress last night—that sometimes the villains chased the heroes, doing whatever they could to challenge them.

Then again, the same news reports would also occasionally air rumors of new vigilante heroes, wreathed in distinctive costumes of their own. Why, just the other week, Bucky remembered hearing something about a supposed "spider-man" in New York City, stopping burglars and muggers.

… _Those who have the means to help… should._

Solace's words came to mind again, and he sighed. The world would be a far better place if more people felt that way.

Sitting up, Bucky finally looked down at the papers he had collected from the floor, attempting to straighten them before putting them back on the table. The top page he held in his hand appeared to be some kind of picture, and despite himself, he stopped to study it closer. At first it was upside-down; when he turned it right-side up, he realized it was a drawing. Well, actually, it was a _print-out_ of a photo of a drawing. As such, the quality wasn't the greatest, but the drawing was dark and detailed enough for him to still see what it was.

It appeared to be a pencil sketch; specifically, it looked like a composite drawing, the kind the police might have done based on a witness's description. But instead of a picture of a normal person's face and shoulders, the person in the drawing appeared to be wearing a full helmet with only the eyes visible. Bucky assumed it was a man from the large proportions, but otherwise it was impossible to see any of the man's own physical features. Apart from the helmet, he also seemed to be wearing battered-looking body armor.

Bucky stared at the picture suspiciously, wondering what this was, and what it was doing here. At first he might have attributed it to something Solace drew. Maybe she was an artist and liked designing things. But he could tell from the picture it was a photo, as if hastily taken with a phone. Where would she have gotten this picture, and why did she want it…?

His eyes narrowed, just as he heard the sound of the bathroom door being opened again.

He hastily set the picture face-down on the table, and glanced over the couch to see Solace entering her bedroom, presumably to get dressed. He took that as a sign to get up from the floor and use the remote to turn the TV off, so he could wait politely for Solace to be ready.

Several more minutes passed, before he heard the bedroom door open and Solace step into the living room. She sounded like she was wearing heeled shoes, even if the carpet muffled her steps, and Bucky fought the urge to turn around. He waited until she stepped into view next to the couch, and only then did he look up. His eyes went wide.

"W-Wow," he stammered, unable to think of anything else to say. Solace was dressed in a pretty, knee-length black-and-white dress, with little buttons on the front. The dress was mostly black, but the area around the chest and bottom of the dress was white with black polka dots. She wore a white necklace with pearly gemstones, and a matching bracelet on her left wrist. She carried a white sweater in one arm, and wore flesh-colored stockings in preparation for a cool evening. Simple black pumps completed the outfit.

His eyes then lifted to gaze at her face. She wore more makeup than usual, and Bucky could tell she had spent a lot of time attempting to minimize the look of her black eye and the cut under it. Her long brown hair had been teased into flowing, voluminous waves, and she'd cleverly styled it so some of her hair would fall over her right eye, obscuring the injury there even more. Her makeup highlighted her eyes and lips just right, and he couldn't stop staring.

"I hope my hair is all right," she laughed, nervously. "I didn't do a lot with it."

Bucky stood up and touched her hair with affection, the tips of his fingers stroking through the soft strands. "It's better this way," he assured her. "More natural. I like it." Her aesthetic was classy, vintage, reminding him of girls he'd taken out on dates decades before. "You look gorgeous, by the way."

Solace beamed, and the beauty of her smile prompted him to lean in for a kiss. She stopped him at the last moment, though, letting their lips just barely touch.

"Don't ruin my makeup yet," she whispered.

He nodded, although it pained him to do so. "Yet," he emphasized.

The two laughed.

Once Solace had grabbed her purse, the two headed out to catch a bus into town. It was still a little early for dinner, but they figured it would be dinnertime by the time they got to the restaurant. Bucky apologized that he didn't have a car and couldn't drive her anywhere, as would be appropriate, but Solace assured him she didn't mind. "We _did_ meet on a bus, after all," she pointed out cheerfully.

The bus was unusually crowded, so the two were forced to stand. Bucky was normally unconcerned with the opinions of others, but as Solace clung to him, unable to reach the overhead rail, he felt a sense of pride and possessiveness. He wrapped his arm around her easily and held her close, enjoying the feeling of envious eyes boring into him. Everyone else could look all they liked, but this beautiful girl was his.

Dinner was just as pleasant as Solace promised it would be. The pizza restaurant had an authentic Italian café theme, and they shared both a pizza and some wine as they chatted about whatever came to mind. Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to truly forget the baggage of his past, and just have a normal evening with a sweet woman.

"My boss gave me this week off, by the way," Solace mentioned, sipping her drink. "She thought it'd be best for my mental health. Not in a bad way, but, well… we don't want that stress carrying over to my work with the other kids."

"That makes sense," Bucky replied. The pizza was good, but he found himself taking way too long between bites. The girl across the table from him was simply too distracting, and every time she spoke, he felt a dreamy haze come over him. All he wanted to do was watch her while she talked. "What are you going to do?"

"Hm, not sure yet." She leaned back in her chair, thinking. "Maybe I'll try to make time and hang out with Jasc—you know, that friend of mine? He lives like an hour away, so we don't see each other all that much. He's also getting jealous that my new boyfriend is occupying me all the time." She punctuated this with a giggle, and Bucky understood he wasn't supposed to read too much into it.

"My apologies. Can't blame me for wanting to keep such a lovely lady to myself."

Solace shook her head, still smiling. He could feel the toe of her shoe hook around his ankle affectionately under the table. "Whenever I listen to you, sometimes I have to sit back and think, is this guy for real?" she mused. He could tell she was studying him, trying to make sense of the man in front of her. "There's no way anyone can be this nice. Where'd you learn to be so charming?"

Embarrassed, he looked back at his plate. "What? Charming? I'm not… doing anything," he protested. And he meant it. This was just what came naturally to him, and he didn't know where it came from. As a young man, maybe he deliberately built up the smooth-talk and mannerisms that he used now, even if he didn't remember doing so. Or maybe he was just a product of the time he grew up in, and he couldn't remember that either. "Is it really so weird?"

"I'm not calling it weird! I'm just saying it's… really different. I've never met anyone like you."

"I'm not that special," he dismissed. A small frown crossed her face in response, so he let his foot nudge hers gently, reassuringly. "You, on the other hand… I've never met anyone like you, either. I've got nothing to offer you, and yet here you still are. I'm pretty sure I've done nothing to deserve this."

Solace leveled a serious gaze at him, something that always made his heart jump in his chest. Seeing her without her usual bright smile or happy eyes was just so unusual, and he knew whatever she said next would be important, heartfelt. "Bucky, I know we haven't… really discussed your past," she began, and he felt himself grow uncomfortable, if not also a bit ashamed. "I get the feeling you don't really _want_ to talk about it. And… I want you to know that's ok with me. At least for now. I don't need to know what happened to you before, to know I like the person you are now."

"I… do appreciate that," Bucky replied, his words slow and reluctant. The fact that Solace was not curious and did not pry was a huge part of why he liked her so much. But at the same time, he knew he shouldn't expect her to do that. How could they truly have a close relationship if he kept secrets from her? "But you deserve better than that. I mean… why do you want to date a guy you hardly know anything about? That's not fair, or even safe for that matter."

Despite the blunt statement, Solace hardly seemed fazed. "Maybe not…" she relented. "But… at the same time, I understand how you feel. Sometimes there are things you have to bear the weight of on your own, and that's just how it has to be for a while. I want you to be able to trust me enough with those things… but that doesn't have to be now."

It was an incredibly insightful statement, perhaps befitting of a woman who worked in counseling and psychology. But nevertheless, the soldier gave her a suspicious look. "How can you be so sure it's ok?" he asked. "How do you know I'm a good person?"

Solace shrugged, with a touch of melancholy in her eyes. "Because I believe in you."

The words made his vision swim. Bucky forced himself to focus, taking a deep breath, and when he blinked he saw Steve's face again. He was bleeding, struggling to stay conscious… yet even as Bucky raised a fist to punch him again, his blue eyes never wavered. He never stopped believing in his friend.

Bucky gave a start when he felt a touch on his hand. He looked up to see Solace, her face full of concern. But she didn't speak, did not demand or question. She simply accepted and waited.

He shifted his hand to squeeze hers, silently grateful for everything she was.

"I believe in _us_ ," he whispered.

* * *

The evening was cool, but walking together seemed to make things much warmer and more pleasant. Bucky at first thought they ought to return home, since the sun had already set, but Solace insisted they walk around a bit, looking at the various stores and restaurants. They would even find a historical monument or marker here and there. Most of the businesses were closed already, it being late on a Sunday, so their walk consisted mostly of holding hands, looking at the various colored signs along their path. It was oddly relaxing, going nowhere together.

As they approached a crosswalk, the sound of live music caught their attention. They looked to see a restaurant down the street, lit up brightly and playing some lively tunes. Solace seemed mildly intrigued, but Bucky felt a tinge of familiarity. The song brought back shaky memories of dances during his youth—the places and circumstances no longer known, but the images so clear.

"Oh, I think I've heard of that place," Solace exclaimed, interrupting his thoughts. "It's this vintage music-themed restaurant that just opened the other month. Never been there before, though."

"Can we look?" Bucky asked, his gaze on the lights and the various people gathered around the front of the restaurant. He was desperate to hold on to these feelings, to pull them in before they slid out of his reach once more.

Solace tilted her head, confused. But at the same time, she seemed to like his unexpected interest, and squeezed his hand approvingly. Together, the two headed down the sidewalk, following the music and chatter of people to the front of the restaurant.

As Solace had mentioned, it appeared to be a bright and trendy neighborhood restaurant with vintage décor. Near the front door was a large, covered patio with outdoor seating, kept warm even during this chilly evening with a number of well-placed space heaters. A small stage with a live jazz band was performing a moderately-energetic swing tune, to which a small handful of people were dancing in the middle of the patio. Arranged around the dance floor were several tables, where other people sat eating and watching the entertainment.

"That looks fun," Solace exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she took everything in. "I love live bands! And the theme is awesome."

Bucky found himself smiling too, enthused by the atmosphere and the familiarity of the music. "You like this kind of thing?" he asked, genuinely interested. "Do you dance?"

"Me? Oh, no. Not really." Solace suddenly sounded embarrassed, biting her lip cutely. "I mean… I've never had anyone to dance with. Plus, I mean… I don't know how to dance to this…"

"No?" Bucky felt his heart race, something impulsive and daring rising to the forefront. The soldier in him protested fiercely, telling him it was ridiculous, that it would draw attention from too many people, but he pushed his caution aside and reached out for Solace's hand. "Do you want to try? I'll show you."

Solace gave him an almost aghast look; he couldn't tell if she was shy, or shocked by his uncharacteristic suggestion. "W-what? Right now? Oh no, I couldn't—"

He grabbed her hand and tugged her towards him, leading her out into the street just in front of the restaurant despite her protests. No cars had gone by since they arrived, so it was probably a very light traffic area. Reluctantly, she set her purse and jacket down nearby and faced him, blushing deeply.

"I-I don't know about this, Bucky, this is kind of embarrassing—" she whined, just before Bucky touched her chin and gave her the most alluring smile he could muster. This time he _was_ trying to be charming, and the effect was obvious.

"Come on, kitten," he soothed. "Give me a chance."

Speechless, she nodded, allowing him to place her hands in the correct places. He then directed her attention down towards their feet, murmuring directions on where to stand.

"All right, so… when I step back with this foot… you step forward. No, the other one. Yeah. Then we step back. Like… Yeah, like that. Try it again."

Solace was giggling nervously, and Bucky could feel her hands squeezing him tight out of anxiety. But she also looked incredibly focused, staring at their feet and trying her best to follow his lead. He kissed her head reassuringly and continued to walk her through the steps slowly, over and over.

"Ok, got that part? Alright, now after that, we step to the side… Other way, beautiful. That's right. Then we step back… And then all over again."

"Oh… Just like that, huh?" She sounded surprised, but pleased with herself. "Do we do anything else?"

"Well, yeah. This is just the basic stuff. I'll lead, you just follow. Relax; once you get into it, it's not that hard."

At first they just ignored the music, working on getting the basic steps down, slowly easing into a rhythm as they turned their awkward steps into the beginnings of a dance. Bucky was pleased to see Solace grow more and more confident, memorizing the steps and able to keep up with him even when he guided her into a faster tempo. The band started a new song, and the two decided to attempt dancing to the beat of this song now.

All traces of shyness gone, Solace seemed to take in the music naturally, and her enthusiasm fed his. She followed his lead smoothly, even when Bucky coaxed her into turns and whispered her through bolder moves. Her smile was contagious, and her energy even more so. For a moment, Bucky saw himself at a dance just before or during the war so many years ago—yes, it had to be, because he had been proud of his military uniform and used it to attract women. He remembered himself smiling at a beautiful girl and leading her to the dance floor. But instead of the girl he had danced with back then, all he saw now—all he _wanted_ to see—was Solace.

One song turned into several, and although their dances would adjust to fit the tempo and mood, Bucky barely noticed. His eyes were on the woman opposite him, and every move she made was perfect to him. Her hair spun when he twirled her, and her body melded into his when he lifted her. He could hear the way she breathed heavily against him, always on the edge of a laugh. Even though she was in a dress and the night air was cool, she felt hot when she looped her arms around his neck and let him dip her nearly to the ground.

When the last song finally ended, and the spell was lifted, Bucky was surprised to hear the sound of clapping. Both of them turned to see several people seated at the patio looking at them, cheering at their impromptu performance. Solace grabbed his arm, giggling; he could tell she was embarrassed at the attention, and so was he.

"You all right?" he asked her, breathlessly. He realized he couldn't stop grinning.

Solace held his hand tight, and he led her back towards the sidewalk. "I'm fine, just… wow! I can't believe you did that!" she exclaimed.

As the two reached the curb, a woman sitting near them on the patio smiled and called to them. "You two looked great," she said. "Better than some of the regulars here!"

Solace blushed happily while she grabbed her things from the ground. "Oh, don't give me any of the credit," she laughed. "He's the one who made it look good. I just did what he told me to!"

The woman gave Bucky an approving nod. "Lucky girl. I wish my husband would dance. Always have to get him tipsy first before he'll even consider it!" The man seated at the table with her rolled his eyes and chuckled good-naturedly at the comment.

"Hey, if it's not any trouble, could you take a picture for us before we go?" Solace asked, pulling her phone out of her purse and handing it to the woman.

"Sure, no problem!"

Solace quickly ran up alongside Bucky and wrapped her arm around him, flashing him an excited look. "Make sure you smile!" she insisted, before turning to face the woman holding up the phone.

Bucky pulled her tight against him and nestled his cheek against the softness of her hair. At first he planned on giving a subtle, charming smile, as felt natural to him. But as the woman counted down from 3, he found himself smiling as widely as Solace was, unable to rein in this feeling they both shared.

The woman snapped several pictures, before she lowered the phone and returned it to Solace. "Thank you so much!" Solace exclaimed, putting it away and giving the couple a friendly wave. "Have a great night!"

"You too!" The couple waved back, and Bucky and Solace took off again, leaving the music and the laughter of the restaurant behind them. Once a safe distance away, Solace began giggling once again.

"Where'd you learn to dance like that? That was amazing!" she remarked, playfully batting him.

Bucky shrugged, starting to calm down from his rush. He was still happy, but looking back on it, even he was startled at what he'd done. "It… was just something we did where I grew up," he explained. "Everyone knew how."

"You're kidding. Where'd you grow up?" she asked.

"Uh… Brooklyn." Bucky had never thought about it before, but the question sparked a sudden moment of clarity in him.

Solace seemed impressed. "Huh, that's neat," she said. "I've never been to New York before. In fact, moving here is the first time I've been to the East Coast."

"Really? How do you like it? Is it a lot different than where you're originally from?"

"Yeah, it's pretty different, but I like it plenty," she smiled. "I'm originally from Nebraska City. Small town, but it's where Arbor Day came from. You've heard of that, at least, right?"

"Uh." Bucky wasn't sure, but he figured it had something to do with trees. "Yeah, probably."

"But yeah—small town girl from the Midwest. I miss it sometimes, but… hey, I bet I wouldn't be doing stuff like this back there!" Solace laughed, before suddenly giving him a sobering look. "I wouldn't be here with you, either."

The thought was unbearable, and a wave of sentiment rose in his chest, nearly painful with its intensity. Bucky stopped walking and turned to face her, desperate for affection all of a sudden. A slight smile crossed his features as he took her face in his hands and his thumbs stroked her cheeks, admiring everything about her. Even if she had a black eye, he thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Can I ruin your makeup yet?" he asked.

She visibly gasped at the question, but her eyes shone with approval. "Please."

Relieved, Bucky lowered his face to hers and captured her lips in the hungriest kiss he could muster, pleased at the muffled moan she gave in return. He felt her grab his arms as she swooned, and the unexpected pull of her weight made him stagger. He had to quickly slide his arms around her body and stumble to the closest wall, pushing her against it. But even then, he refused to pull away. All he could feel was the softness of her mouth, the warmth of her body pressed close to his, and the heat that still burned through his veins, not unlike what he had felt dancing with her.

Their lips parted, just for a brief second, and he heard her whisper his name. A shudder went through him at the passion in her voice, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut against the weakness. This was everything he wanted. _She_ was everything he wanted.

"Solace, I…"

 _Love you. So much._

Then her mouth was on his again, and Bucky knew nothing else.

* * *

 _If you have to fall, you might as well fall hard.  
_

 _Something of a longer chapter this time, but hopefully it was a good one! I liked writing this one. :)_

 _Thank you for the continuing support, and be sure to leave a comment/review!_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6**_

As happy as Bucky was for Solace that she did not have to work this week, it was disappointing for him because he _did_. Taking the bus in the morning without her there felt lonely… not to mention people actually noticed. Monday came and went without incident, but when he got on the bus on Tuesday, the driver gave him a wry look.

"You two didn't break up already, did ya?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" Bucky replied, more than a little incredulous.

"Just curious."

Insulted, Bucky continued to his seat without answering, and his sullen expression lasted the entire ride.

During his lunch break at work, he sat in a corner of the garage, eating a sandwich and flipping through his notebook. The most recent pages were dedicated to Solace, and tucked into the notebook now was a printout of one of the photos taken Sunday night. He'd awkwardly asked if it were possible for her to get him a physical copy, and while she giggled, Solace happily complied and printed one for him. He almost didn't recognize his happy, smiling self in the picture, but it hardly mattered—Solace's gorgeous smile was the only thing he cared about.

Could he really do this? Could he really live like this for the rest of his life, drowning every aspect of himself in this woman he'd grown to care for? The soldier didn't believe it, but Bucky allowed himself to fall in love with the idea, and it carried him through the rest of his day.

The particular car Bucky worked on that day proved more stubborn than he anticipated, and by the time he had finished, the sun was already setting. On his way out, he passed a small group of his coworkers all gathered in front of a tiny television on a table, which piqued his interest. Must have been something interesting on TV, to keep them still at work. He came up next to them to see what they were watching.

"Hey mano, finally heading home?" One of the men, a skinny Hispanic man with a neat beard, looked up and waved at Bucky. He was one of the few people here who hadn't been completely scared off from talking to him, and he always had been nice to Bucky as long as he could remember.

"Hector." Bucky acknowledged, with a friendly nod. "What's going on?"

Hector smiled and indicated the television, which appeared to be tuned to a Spanish-speaking news channel. "Just watching the news," he explained. "You heard about the masked criminals running around town lately? They're getting bolder every day. They had a confrontation with police last night. Sent two officers to the hospital. Word on the street is that they're also trying to recruit people, though I don't know if that's just a rumor."

"I hadn't heard that," Bucky replied, tilting his head at the television. He knew Hector, along with the rest of his coworkers, probably thought he couldn't understand the broadcast. But Spanish—along with dozens of other languages—had been programmed into the Winter Soldier long ago, and it was all second nature to him now. Right now, the reporter was mentioning the murder of Jonathan Ternz, Alec's father, and the kidnapping of young Alec, hypothesizing that it could all be connected.

"Crazy people everywhere. You take care of yourself out there," Hector cautioned, while giving Bucky a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Bucky smiled, appreciative of the concern. "You too, pal. See you tomorrow."

On the bus ride home, he found himself staring out the window and wondering just how everything would turn out. He thought about Solace and hoped for her sake, Alec would be recovered safe and sound from whoever kidnapped him. But what was more concerning to Bucky was why Alec had been kidnapped at all. He just couldn't get his head around why an assassin would make a successful hit, then come back later to kidnap the target's child right out of his hospital bed. If it were him, the Winter Soldier would never have let a witness even live long enough to be interrogated by police. Was there perhaps a ransom involved? He certainly hadn't heard about any such thing—

With a start, Bucky looked up.

The sound was so subtle that no one else on the bus noticed it yet. But even as faint and far as the sound was, Bucky knew it as intimately as a heartbeat, and once he noticed it, he could not ignore it: the tell-tale popping of a gun. Three-round bursts. Likely an M4 carbine. And from the sounds of it, the bus was rapidly getting closer to the source.

Bucky stood up just as the other people on the bus began to take notice of the pops as well. They mostly seemed confused, perhaps assuming the sound came from firecrackers or another harmless noisemaker. He pushed his way to the front of the vehicle, just in time to see a figure step into the middle of the approaching intersection.

"Stop the bus!" Bucky yelled, and the driver hit the brakes hard. Amidst the shrieks of the passengers behind him, Bucky was thrown to the floor, just as soon as he saw the figure lift his gun and point it at the bus.

In a crackling of bullets, the front windshield shattered; Bucky covered his head just as a rain of glass shards cascaded over him. He looked back frantically to see the other passengers cowering on the floor, before looking up to the bus driver. His eyes were wide, and Bucky could see him clutching a bloody wound in his left upper arm. Without thinking, Bucky reached up and grabbed the man, dragging him down to the floor. He swiftly ripped the bottom of the man's uniform jacket and tied the strip of cloth around the injury.

"You're going to be ok," Bucky snapped, forcing the bus driver to forget his pain momentarily and give him a desperate look. "Don't panic."

He turned away from the injured man and moved to exit the bus, through the front doors. Despite the fact that the bus was still running and the doors were strongly sealed shut, Bucky thought nothing of punching out the glass with his fist, then forcing the doors apart with his bare hands. He stepped out of the bus and lifted his left arm just in time to block another spray of bullets.

A tense silence filled the street in the wake of the bullets' echoes, and Bucky lowered his arm slowly. He was aware of the screaming and crying, of course; the passengers in the bus behind him worked frantically to clear the bus and help each other to safety, while trapped civilians nearby huddled behind cars and doorways. But like clockwork, the soldier filtered all of it out. There was no fear. Only focus.

His gaze first went to his arm, where his left sleeve had been shredded by the bullet fire. If it had still been daylight, the metal of his cybernetic arm would have been clear for all to see. His eyes narrowed and glanced next at the shooter, standing in the middle of the intersection just several yards away. The man had lowered his weapon, but wasn't looking at Bucky. He was facing another, shorter individual standing next to him, and they appeared to be conversing. Both of them wore matching, very distinct outfits.

 _That mask… that armor…_

Startled, Bucky realized he recognized the shooter. He looked exactly like the composite sketch he'd found in Solace's apartment.

The shooter finally turned, and for a moment their eyes met. Even with the mask, Bucky could see the thin glint of amusement in his expression as the man pointed at him, as if to indicate him to the accomplice at his side. He then lifted his rifle and took aim once again.

Like instinct, Bucky dove to the right, ducking for cover behind a nearby bench. The bullets pinged off its metallic surface, and a peal of screams ripped through the air from the frightened people still nearby. Gritting his teeth, Bucky waited until the gunfire stopped, and in that split-second pause, he pushed himself to run, taking off in a direction away from the bus and the trapped civilians. He could feel the heat of the bullet fire peppering the sidewalk just inches behind him, the pounding of his heartbeat in his head… but most importantly, he could feel the Winter Soldier. The chill of cryogenic sleep still tingled at the corner of his mind. The taste of the sterile air still tasted harsh in his mouth. He could almost hear his own screams.

Bucky lifted his arms in front of him and leaped, straight through a store-front window. He hit the ground with a grunt of pain as the store's sirens shrieked and the glass broke his fall. He could see bullet holes opening up the walls inside the store, the dry wall bursting with each small pop. He quickly crawled towards a back hallway, grateful that the business appeared to be closed, and began running again. The back door caved in easily with a solid punch, and he stumbled into the street behind the store.

For a moment, he stopped, still trembling from the adrenaline rush. He could smell his own blood in the air from the numerous cuts across his body, and his breathing was harsh in his ears. Yet despite just escaping his opponent, he found he couldn't take his eyes off the door he'd just come through.

 _Should I go back? Those people…_

The wail of sirens in the distance reached his ears, and his eyes lowered to his exposed arm.

 _They'll never believe it wasn't me._

Hating himself, Bucky turned and ran.

The side streets were empty, and for once he let himself run as fast as he could. The soldier was satisfied with the escape, but Bucky was not. He couldn't bear this cold feeling, and he couldn't bear himself. He pushed himself harshly, wanting to feel his lungs burn from the inside out.

When he approached a main road, he finally forced himself to stop and catch his breath. In his fatigued haze, he thought he saw someone leap across the sky, from one building to the next.

Shocked, Bucky turned and tried to search the skyline further, but he saw nothing. He wasn't even sure if anything had been there to begin with. And when he heard the sirens even louder in his ears, the Winter Soldier dragged him away and forced him to focus. Nothing else was important.

 _The mission is_ _survival_ _._

* * *

Later that night, Bucky sat on the fire escape just outside his bedroom window, holding an ice pack to the back of his neck and trying hard to focus on the sound of the TV broadcast coming from the apartment below him. Upon careful inspection of himself after coming home, he found he hadn't been injured too badly—just a number of minor cuts across his body and face, along with some impact bruises and a straining of his neck from when the bus had stopped suddenly. Nothing he couldn't heal easily, given time.

"…The man was described as wearing what appeared to be combat armor, and a mask on his face. His accomplice was wearing a similar outfit. As police prepared for a firefight with the suspects, the two suddenly appeared to lose interest in the standoff, disappearing into the night. There is no explanation for what the shooters wanted or why they attacked that area, but first responders are calling it a 'miracle' that only 5 people were injured."

Bucky breathed a sigh of relief at the statement. No one was killed. Unfortunately, he didn't think it was because of the arrival of police. He remembered what Hector had mentioned about them sending two officers to the hospital last night. No… they had left of their own accord. They could have kept going, kept trying to hurt people, but they chose not to.

"…Officials are warning all citizens to stay indoors, as these masked individuals are considered armed and dangerous. No word on whether the mayor will be making a statement in response to the series of rapidly escalating events of violence, or if the federal government has plans to assist in the apprehension of these dangerous suspects."

Bucky sighed deeply, forcing himself to get to his feet again. That was just what he needed—federal agents swarming the area looking for this masked maniac. Maybe if things got really bad, they'd call in some superheroes, too.

He climbed back inside and closed the window, his mind already running through contingency plans. He had a bag packed at all times under his bed, ready to grab so he could leave at a moment's notice. Though Bucky hated the idea of abandoning some of the other stuff in his apartment—supplies and belongings he'd stolen from HYDRA just before he left Washington, D.C.—he also knew he couldn't afford to stay attached to anything, any place.

Crossing over to the bed, he sat down and picked up the one object he really didn't want to leave behind… his notebook, filled with the shards of his memories and things he held closest to his heart. He flipped it open again and stared at Solace's picture, hoping she was safe. He had tried to call her when he got home, but she hadn't answered, leaving him to settle for leaving a concerned yet affectionate message on her voicemail. Running across town to check on her wasn't an option with all the police out there; plus, he didn't want her to feel he was being overprotective and breathing down her neck with worry.

Flipping back a few pages, Bucky studied the familiar image of Captain America again and chewed his lip. Steve probably would never have run from protecting innocent people. He would have fought until every last civilian had escaped, and then continued to fight until the shooters were apprehended. Even if Steve, for some reason, was in Bucky's position, and was in danger of being arrested himself, he probably wouldn't have cared. He'd risk arrest for the things he believed in.

 _Sacrifice is for heroes. And I'm no hero._

The thought annoyed him, somehow, and Bucky tossed the notebook aside. Even if he wasn't afraid of the masked man terrorizing the city, he still had a feeling it'd be hard to get to sleep tonight.

* * *

The next day, Bucky was hesitant to go to work. Not just because of the increased police activity in the city, but also because he was afraid someone might recognize him as a witness from the bus incident. In addition, he wasn't sure if the bus services would be altered due to the previous night's events; he was certain that entire area of the town was blocked off and being processed for clues. There were just too many details he couldn't account for, so he chose to just call his boss and tell him he didn't want to come in due to the near-death experience he'd had the night before. It was pretty close to the truth, after all, and his boss certainly didn't need any more explanation than that.

In the middle of microwaving a breakfast burrito, his phone rang, and Bucky was relieved to see it was Solace. "Hey kitten," he greeted, eliciting a small giggle from her end. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah… I guess so." She sounded exhausted. "I got stuck in lockdown at a restaurant last night because of what happened. Didn't get home until late."

"That's terrible… Were you scared?"

Solace laughed a little. "Me? No… Well, maybe a little bit," she admitted. "I just wish I understood what was going on."

"Me too." Bucky knew Alec was probably on her mind, but he didn't want to bring it up and upset her more. "I'm not going to work today, by the way."

"You're not? Cause of what happened, I guess?"

"Yeah." Bucky wasn't yet sure how to explain his injuries. He could probably just tell her the truth, more or less, but he didn't want to scare her at the moment.

Solace was quiet for a second, before she suggested, tentatively, "Maybe I could… come over? I've been worried about you."

"Uh." Bucky hesitated, not particularly fond of that idea. For one, his apartment was completely bare-bones—he had a few pieces of simple furniture set up in it, and a cheap set of kitchenware, but aside from that, there was nothing to really indicate anyone _lived_ in it. It definitely was not nice enough to invite someone over. Secondly, he wasn't particularly comfortable letting her into the apartment, knowing some of the stuff he had hidden. The soldier was incredibly adamant about not letting anyone even near it, much less discovering it by accident. And finally…

"No, no, no… I wouldn't feel comfortable having you travel here," he said. "I can go over there, if you want. But please don't leave the house."

He heard her sigh a little, obviously annoyed. "I know you're concerned about me, Bucky," she told him. "But please… I'm not helpless."

"I…" Bucky bit his lip, forcing back the impulse to argue, to insist that it was his job as the man to protect the woman. He knew things weren't like that, not anymore. But she was just too precious to him.

"Solace… I know you're not helpless," he said. "You're a really strong woman. I have no doubt you can take care of yourself. But these criminals… they have guns. They're dangerous. Maybe they haven't killed a lot of people yet, but that's just sheer luck. It's just going to get worse if they aren't stopped soon. I just…"

He had to catch his breath, had to force back the emotion in his throat. He didn't want to stifle Solace, but he still wished he could keep her close.

"…I don't want to lose you."

Solace was silent for a long time at his words. For a moment, Bucky was afraid he'd scared her away.

"No… Bucky, I'm sorry," she whispered. "You're… right. We _both_ need to be careful. I… I just don't want you to get hurt, either. If I can't walk to your place, why can you come over to mine?"

He smiled slightly to himself. _Because I'm a super soldier, beautiful girl, and I've gone through hell and back. I'll do it again if it means protecting you._

"Solace… I'll be all right," he soothed. "I promise. Just believe in me."

She sighed heavily, but gave him a kiss through the phone. "I do. Be here soon, ok?"

Bucky smiled and, despite himself, gave her a kiss of his own. "I never leave a lady waiting," he promised, before hanging up.

After reheating his breakfast and having a quick meal, Bucky jumped in the shower and winced, as the hot water stung every cut on his body. He might have had accelerated healing, but it wasn't going to be fast enough to get him out of trouble. He was _not_ looking forward to Solace's reaction when he showed up at her apartment covered in scratches and bruises. And after all he had said about being careful and not getting hurt.

Bucky brushed his teeth, got dressed, and left the apartment just a little after 8 a.m., determined not to keep Solace waiting and worrying about him. The sun was still tentatively reaching up into the sky, and the traffic seemed much lighter. Probably a lot of people too scared to go into work this morning. As he strolled down the sidewalk, admiring the cool weather, he became quite aware of a patrol car coming up alongside him on the street. Bucky didn't flinch, though. He couldn't betray any sign of anxiety.

"Morning, sir," called the police officer in the passenger's seat, lowering his window. Bucky glanced at the two men in the car and waved at them, smiling.

"Good morning, officers," he replied. "How are you this morning?"

The policemen exchanged a look; Bucky could only imagine every officer in the city was having the worst week ever. "Good, thanks for asking." The officer paused, before he added, in a sterner voice, "We're cautioning civilians to be careful walking around the city. Have you heard about the masked shooters lately?"

"Oh, of course. It's terrifying," Bucky replied. He had to force his shoulders to relax, to push the soldier away from the instinctive urge to fight. "I'm just on my way to my girlfriend's apartment. I don't have a car, and she's super scared right now. I promised I'd see her first thing this morning."

He was quite certain that Solace would be mad if she knew Bucky was painting her as a damsel-in-distress, but at least it served his purpose. The officers' eyes softened a little, and they nodded in understanding.

"Want a ride, son? Where are you going?" the officer in the driver's seat asked. "We'll give you a lift."

Bucky knew it would look better if he accepted the ride, so he got in, thanking the officers for being so kind, and giving them directions to near Solace's apartment complex. He kept his head slightly tilted downwards, so the baseball cap he was wearing obscured his face. He didn't need the police to be scrutinizing him in the rear-view mirror.

The ride only took a few minutes, with the officers cautioning him along the way about going out, especially after dark. Bucky assured them he would be careful, and thanked them again once they dropped him off. He pretended to head into the first apartment building on the block, knowing they were watching him. As soon as the patrol car drove away, Bucky left the unfamiliar building and headed for Solace's actual building another two blocks down the street.

As usual, the apartment complex was quiet. The apartments themselves seemed to be relatively spacious judging from Solace's home, so Bucky figured there were probably fewer tenants living in the building than where he lived. He climbed the stairs up to the fourth floor, where her apartment was, and as he rounded the staircase, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Her door was ajar.

A cold chill crept down the back of his neck, and he began breathing harder. He crossed over immediately to inspect the door; it looked like someone had kicked it in so hard, not only had the bolt lock been ripped through the doorframe, but the chain had also snapped in half.

 _Oh God… Oh no… what happened…?_

Bucky pushed the door open, cautiously, and looked inside. Aside from the splinters of wood on the welcome mat inside, nothing looked out of the ordinary yet. The furniture inside was untouched, all her picture frames still standing. But the apartment was still, and he didn't like it.

"Solace?" he called, uncertainly, but he received no response.

He slowly stepped into the apartment, and the soldier began a military sweep of the room, moving in a practiced and controlled fashion to check around corners and look for anyone who could be lying in wait. The living room and kitchen areas were clear, so he advanced towards the hallway, where Solace's bedroom and bathroom were. He looked in the bathroom quickly, finding nothing, before putting his back to the wall next to her bedroom door and listening. No sound.

He reached for the door handle, turning it easily, and pushed the door open. There appeared to be no response, so he rounded the corner and—

Even before he could process what was coming at his face, Bucky's left hand shot up to defend him, grabbing the assailant's wrist just inches before the kitchen knife could enter his eye. Instinctively, he twisted the arm hard, forcing his attacker to drop the blade.

But the soldier dissipated immediately upon hearing a high-pitched wail of pain, and to Bucky's surprise, he realized he was holding Solace.

"Solace!" he gasped, letting go of her arm. She whimpered and staggered backwards, clutching at where he'd grabbed her. Bucky rushed forward to put his arms around her, cradling her close. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you!"

She pressed her face into his neck, sniffling a little as she inspected her arm. Her skin already looked an odd shade of red, in the rough shape of his hand. It was definitely going to bruise. "I-I'll be ok," she whimpered, trembling as she looked up at him. "I-I'm just so glad I didn't hurt you… I had no idea it was you…"

Bucky managed a weak smile. Yes, he supposed twisting Solace's arm was probably the better option, between that and her stabbing him in the face, but he still felt horrible. If he had gripped her any harder with his left hand, he could have easily broken her arm. He kissed her lips, her cheeks, and then gently lifted her arm to his face so he could kiss that too. "I was so worried about you," he whispered. "I saw your door kicked in and I feared the worst…"

"I know…" Solace said, wiping at her tears, trying to calm down. "It all happened not too long ago. I was in the kitchen when it happened. I screamed and grabbed a knife and ran to the bedroom. I thought maybe they'd follow me, so I waited… But then I heard a voice, so I froze…"

Bucky nodded, pressing his lips to her forehead fiercely. His initial feelings of concern now morphed into anger, a cold vicious fury that pushed him to hunt down whoever dared do this. "You think they just… ran away?" he asked. He supposed if it was just some punk criminal who decided to rob an apartment on a whim, a scream could easily throw them off and scare them away. But if they chose this particular apartment, all the way on the fourth floor, then the criminal must have had some reason for doing so. Maybe they knew Solace lived alone, for instance. But if so, they obviously put some time and effort into planning things out, so why abandon it so easily…?

"I guess so…" Solace seemed to have calmed down significantly, though her arm still hurt judging by the way she favored it. "I didn't even get to see who it was."

"Did you call the police?" Bucky asked, warily. He assumed by the lack of police sirens that she hadn't; the patrol car that gave him a ride had probably dropped him off right before the crime occurred and couldn't have gone too far.

Solace blinked, as if the thought hadn't occurred to her. "I… no, I didn't. I mean… I guess I was going to, but then you showed up. Besides… the police probably have a lot on their plate today anyway."

It was part of the unspoken agreement between them—no police when Bucky was involved—and he begrudgingly accepted that. "If you say so," he muttered, turning away to peer out of the room again. The front door was still wide open. "What are you going to do about your door?"

She seemed to brighten a little at the question. "Well, lucky for me… and every other tenant in this building, for that matter… we have Stanley. He can help," she said.

Bucky stared at her, confused. "Who's Stanley?"

"You'll see," she exclaimed, as she pulled out her cell phone and began searching through her contacts. "In the meantime, just… make sure no weirdo walks in."

She returned to the bedroom to make her phone call, and Bucky sighed, staring at the broken doorframe.

"Oh, _now_ you're worried about weirdos coming in…?"

* * *

Whoever Stanley was, he said he would take about an hour to get there. Solace offered no more clarification on the matter, instead making Bucky and herself coffee while they waited. The two remained quiet for a while, obviously both still tense after what happened, but eventually Bucky offered to make her an ice pack for her arm. After that, Solace finally seemed to open up again.

"First a black eye, then this," she laughed, humorlessly. "This just isn't my week."

With a wry smile, Bucky placed the ice pack over her arm; she gave a small whine as the cold touched her skin. "I'm really sorry about hurting you," he emphasized. "I honestly just reacted; I didn't even see you until I already grabbed you."

Solace shook her head at him. "It's… really fine. Better than me killing you," she said. "Honestly, I'm surprised you stopped me at all; you have like… lightning reflexes."

"Y-Yeah, I guess so." Bucky attempted to laugh, but it was obviously forced. "What surprises _me_ is… how pinpoint you were with that knife. You knew you wanted to go for the kill."

She immediately looked away, uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Oh… Well, I figure… I'm not physically strong enough to fight anybody, so I better get the drop on them. Right…?"

"Probably a good idea." Bucky didn't push the issue further, but he did think it was weird. Most civilians, put into the same situation, would not be so targeted with their attacks. They would slash and stab wildly, and the more likely impact area—especially for someone of Solace's height—would be the chest and abdomen. Solace would have had to deliberately reach up and aim for the face with her knife.

The soldier twitched again.

For a moment, the two were silent, nursing their coffee mugs and collecting their thoughts.

"I like your hat, by the way," Solace said, her eyes suddenly noticing it.

Bucky had no idea _why_ she would like it; it was just a plain old green cap. The brim was already worn down and tattered. He gave her a weird look. "Thanks, I guess? It's not all that interesting."

She obviously seemed to think otherwise, for she was staring at it in fascination. "You've just never worn a hat before," she observed. "Can I see it?"

"Sure." He let her pull it off his head, and he smoothed back his hair while she inspected the hat. She then—predictably—put it on her own head and giggled. He smiled at her. "You're silly."

"I know. Couldn't help my…" She trailed off, and her brow crinkled in confusion. "What happened to your face?"

Bucky bit back a sigh as he watched her eyes look him over. Now that his hat was gone, she could quite clearly see the red cuts and welts on his forehead and cheek. There was even one on the side of his neck. They weren't serious, but they were certainly obvious. "I got… hurt?" he offered, lamely.

Solace glowered at him. "No kidding. _How_ did you get hurt?" she asked.

"I… got pelted with broken glass." He figured he just ought to be straightforward, but it was hard when he knew she'd be upset. Ok, _now_ he could see why she was reluctant to explain her black eye the other day.

"Broken _glass_? Where?"

He took a deep breath. "Please don't be mad. But I… I was on that bus that was on the news last night."

Solace's eyes grew huge. "Oh my God, you mean—Bucky, I thought you were home already! That's why I wasn't worried about you!"

"I got caught up in a project at work and ended up staying late. I'm sorry; I just didn't want to tell you over the phone—"

"That guy _shot_ at the bus!" Solace practically shouted, her voice growing louder and more upset the more she talked. "The driver had to go to the hospital for a bullet wound! And you were _on it_?! You could have been killed!"

Bucky gave her a helpless, confused shrug. "I know, I was there!" he snapped back, defensively. "But I'm fine! I don't know why it's _my_ fault for being in the wrong place at the wrong time—"

Solace burst into tears.

It happened all so suddenly; one minute she was berating him verbally, the next… she was covering her face in her hands, sobbing. Bucky felt the rest of his argument die in his throat, staring helplessly across the table at her. He didn't know what to say.

"I'm s-sorry," she whimpered. "I-I know it's not your fault… B-But thinking how close you were to that guy… I just…" She sniffed hard, a decidedly-unattractive, nasally, wet sound.

Bucky exhaled and stared down at his coffee mug. He knew it wasn't anyone's fault but that masked criminal's. By now, he was pretty certain that the shooter and the assassin that Alec described were one and the same. Not satisfied with murdering Alec's father, this man had also kidnapped Alec and started a crime spree of terror across the city with his cohort. Bucky remembered the rumor Hector mentioned—that they were also trying to recruit people to their cause—and wondered if there could very well be _more_ masked maniacs running around…

"I don't want to lose you either, Bucky," Solace said quietly, and the sudden sentiment snapped him out of his thoughts.

His eyes softened as he stared at her across the table. He hated that this masked man was not only threatening their well-beings… but also their idyllic relationship with each other. What he shared with Solace was already so tenuous. Bucky was terrified that by the time this was all over, they wouldn't be able to make it work. Either because of the stress and strain… or because of the Winter Soldier.

 _I don't want to run away from this. Anything but this._

"Come here, beautiful," he whispered, and the sudden, husky tenderness in his voice made Solace gasp. She meekly pushed back her chair and came over to his side, and he pulled her into his lap. With one hand, he tugged the hat off her head; with the other, he lovingly ran his fingers through her long, soft hair.

"I'm not going to leave you," he said. He knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth that it was probably a lie, and this was never going to last, and he would forever live with the pain of knowing he broke her heart—

Solace leaned over him, making his heart flutter in anticipation of a kiss. But instead, she lowered her head to brush her lips against his neck. Helpless, Bucky tilted his head back, panting and feeling her trail gentle kisses across his skin. He knew perfectly well how Solace made him feel, how his blood burned every time she was passionate with him. But all of a sudden, for the first time, he was acutely aware of what _else_ she was capable of doing to him. For as her body shifted against him, struggling to find a comfortable seat, her knee accidentally brushed against his groin. He sucked in a sharp breath.

She paused, obviously surprised; maybe she was unaware of what she'd done. "Are you all right?" she breathed.

Bucky opened his eyes, wondering if he looked as scared and uncertain as he felt. "No," he replied, shakily. "I… I don't think we should—"

She stared at him intensely, and he felt the terror in his chest slowly ease. Her eyes seemed to draw him in, like soft, warm pools of love and affection, and he released a shuddering breath. She seemed to be pleased with his response, looking down at his lap, then back up to his eyes again.

"You excite me too, you know," she whispered, her mouth curving into the slightest tug of a smile.

Bucky felt his heart race at the words, an unexpected thrill of pleasure running through him at the very idea that she was as attracted to him as he was to her. Before he could think, he had reached up to grab the back of her head and pull her in for a kiss. It was rough, sloppy, probably the most undignified kiss he'd ever had in his life, but _damned_ if it wasn't good, if it didn't set his body on fire and make him moan so loud, he almost didn't recognize his own voice.

Solace squirmed in his lap, only adding more fuel to the flame, and she struggled to get her hands under his shirt. He made a small sound of pain as her nails grazed over some of the wounds on his torso; immediately, she eased back, soothingly brushing her fingertips against him instead. His back arched under her touch, desperate for more, hungry to let her just take over and surrender everything that made Bucky Barnes who he was.

But in the back of his head, the soldier was screaming at him, telling him to pull back _now_ , before it was too late; before her hands stroked up and came into contact with metal, before she discovered the truth and he lost everything—

A loud, startling knock at the door made the both of them jump, shattering the moment. Bucky lost his balance, tipping backwards in the chair, and they both hit the floor with an undignified yelp of pain.

Solace recovered first, hastily climbing to her feet. Bucky, however, lay there on the floor, barely understanding what just happened. He looked over at the front door and saw an elderly man standing in the doorway, clutching a tool bag in one hand and adjusting his dark glasses with the other.

With a sigh, the man shook his head. "Now I see why you want me to fix your door, young lady."

* * *

Bucky spent most of the next forty-five minutes sitting mortified at the table, drinking his cold coffee and trying to not look at the old man who Solace introduced as Stanley.

"He lives down on the first floor," she explained, and Bucky was completely baffled as to how she recovered from her initial embarrassment so easily. "He doesn't work for the apartment complex, but he's considered the 'handyman' around here. He fixes anything so long as you give him a nice tip."

Stanley was squinting at the doorframe and making measurements with a tape measure, before pulling various replacement parts out of his bag. "Don't suppose you have any of those cookies of yours lying around?" he asked.

"No, sir, I haven't baked in a long time. Sorry!" she replied. "Maybe next time. Is $50 fair instead?"

"Sure, sure. Ah, you're always a generous girl," he chuckled. "I bet the young man there knows, am I right?"

Bucky turned red and refused to look up, while Solace giggled. "I'll make it $75 if you add another lock to the door," she offered.

"Yes, ma'am!"

The two made friendly conversation as Stanley fixed up the door locks with surprising accuracy and skill. Though he couldn't fix the section of the door where the deadbolt had ripped through wood, he was able to adeptly add two other bolts into the door, around where the original had been. He also replaced the chain lock with a new one.

"How'd you break your door?" Stanley asked.

"We were rough on it," Solace replied, casually, and Bucky made an unpleasant sound into his coffee mug.

Stanley shook his head. "That's what you get for bringing home such a strapping young lad. What's his name, anyway?"

Solace stroked Bucky's hair absently, trying to make him feel better. "James."

"Righto. Ok, Jimmy, don't go busting down this lady's door again," Stanley teased, handing Solace the key to her new locks. He accepted the cash that she handed to him, as well as a kiss on the cheek. "Call me again if you need anything, sweetheart."

"You're the best, Stanley. Have a great day!"

Bucky finally looked up when the old man had left, and watched Solace opening and shutting the door experimentally. "Can't even tell the doorframe has a hole in it from the outside," she said, sounding pleased as she closed and locked the door. "Isn't he great?"

"That was _embarrassing_. You don't mind that he saw us…?"

Solace snickered and shook her head, coming up behind Bucky and nuzzling his hair. "I don't care. He doesn't care. You shouldn't either. Unless you think _I'm_ embarrassing or something."

"Of course I don't," Bucky sighed. "It's not like that. It's just… awkward."

She kissed his cheek gently. "I hope I didn't… do anything you didn't like," she said, hesitantly. "I _thought_ you liked it."

He finally looked at her, and attempted a smile. "I did. It just… I don't know. It was a lot to take in."

Solace tilted her head, before giving him a tight hug. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"It's not you," he tried to assure. "I'm just… not confident in myself right now. You're so intense, and beautiful, and I love everything you do, but… I don't know if I deserve it."

"Shh shh shh." She rubbed her cheek against him, smiling. "I don't like you being so negative. You know you deserve everything I've given you, and everything I ever will give you."

He smiled weakly and brushed a thumb over her cheek lovingly. "…Solace."

Her kisses on his fingers were feather-light, and the smile she gave him just as gentle. He felt a soft sigh escape him as she pulled away… just before he noticed the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Well, now that that's settled… why don't you give me a kiss and help me make lunch, _Jimmy_?"

Bucky's eyes narrowed, and before Solace could even squeak in surprise, he grabbed her and pushed her on top of the table, nearly knocking over the coffee mugs. Pinning her down, he gave her a deep, hungry kiss, and the low growl of his voice against her lips made her whine in pleasure.

"Fine. But don't you dare call me that again, kitten. You'll regret it."

He doubted she really would, but it was worth saying just to see her blush.

* * *

 _Hmm, the action's heating up... and the romance is getting pretty spicy too. ;)_

 _Also, yay for Marvel cameos! xD_

 _Apologies for the slightly-late update, but I hope it was worth it! As always, thank you for all the support, and please consider reviewing and letting me know what you think!_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7**_

While spending time with Solace was always enjoyable, even if they just sat around her apartment all day, Bucky could tell she wasn't very happy about it. Between helping her cook, assisting her with dishes, watching TV, and generally spending the day lazing about, he could see the small, frustrated tug at her mouth when she thought he wasn't looking. The way she glanced out the window every so often. The slight strain to her voice when she talked about things they ought to do together, after this whole mess was straightened out.

He wasn't sure if she was scared, or if she just wanted to go outside with him instead of being cooped up indoors. Probably a little of both. Nevertheless, Bucky felt sorry for her. She deserved to have a normal relationship with a normal boyfriend, and be able to enjoy her life without being afraid of masked criminals terrorizing the city outside.

Leaving her that evening was difficult, but Solace insisted she'd be all right. He expressed his surprise that she wasn't afraid or paranoid after what had happened that day, but she seemed adamant that the door repairs would keep her safe. For his own peace of mind, Bucky examined the door himself; the new locks were certainly sturdy, but the soldier was confident a really strong and determined individual might still find a way in. The hinges had probably suffered from strain when the door was kicked in, and the doorframe itself was weakened as well. He advised her to see about getting the entire door replaced when she could.

"You're always so concerned about my welfare," Solace remarked, pretending to sound annoyed. But a reluctant smile showed up on her face nonetheless. "What did you fight so hard for before you met me?"

Bucky leveled a serious gaze at her, and her smile faded. "Nothing," he replied. "Nothing that I had a choice about, anyway."

She laughed, humorlessly. "You're far too passionate for that to be true. There was something, once."

A memory crossed his mind at the prompt, and for a moment he was elsewhere. A grungy back alley, surrounded by three young men. He tasted blood in his mouth and felt it dribbling from his nose, but that wasn't what upset him. The small blond figure crumpled on the ground nearby looked at him weakly, his face already black and blue. The sight was infuriating, and Bucky felt a growl escape him as he rushed at the nearest man. The crunch of the man's nose under his fist felt satisfying.

He blinked again, and realized Solace was staring at him, eyebrow raised in confusion.

"…I used to have a friend," he relented. "But that was a long time ago."

Solace studied his face for a moment, before she nodded her understanding. "I bet you're a great friend."

Bucky shook his head and turned to leave the apartment. "Nah. I'm not even a great boyfriend."

He heard her footsteps behind him as she rushed out into the hall after him, and he turned just in time to catch her in his arms and be pulled into a desperate kiss goodbye. Solace didn't try to argue, didn't try to scold him over his self-depreciation. But he could still feel her sadness and her frustration in the way she kissed him roughly.

"Be careful," she whispered, before letting him go.

Bucky stepped back from her, his heart still racing. "You too," he replied, with mixed feelings.

There was still plenty of light out as Bucky left the building, but the sun was going down, and he made sure to quicken his pace for home. He didn't want the police bothering him again, after all. His empty apartment was lonely, and dinner was a pre-packaged, boring prospect, but tonight, Bucky was distracted with other ideas, other plans. Solace wanted to know why he fought so hard. It was because he now had something worth protecting.

After dark, Bucky went into his bedroom with the lights turned off and opened the window, listening to his downstairs neighbor blaring the TV news report again. It sounded like live coverage of an unfolding event. Bucky opened his closet and pulled two large cases towards his bed, listening to the reporter as he opened them methodically.

"We're bringing you live footage from our chopper… Robbery in-progress… The 'masked marauders of Philly' have struck again…"

Bucky cringed at the media name for these criminals. It sounded more whimsical than the reality of the situation really was, as if there were a troupe of costumed bandits plundering the city, rather than the terroristic thugs they really were.

He noted the street intersection of the crime in progress and charted a map in his head as he began to undress. The soldier was both angry and excited at what he was planning, and he liked that. It took him only a few swift minutes to change into the uniform he had kept in the case this whole time. The smell of smoke and blood still clung to it faintly, and the snaps of the belts and buckles sounded loud in his ears as he fastened them together.

He hadn't left Washington, D.C. empty-handed. Like a good soldier, a dutiful pet, the Winter Soldier returned to the HYDRA base at the bank in the aftermath of his fight with Captain America. Bucky remembered the faces of the scientists, his handlers, as they treated his wounds and ordered him to report. Somehow, Bucky found it in himself to lie to them, claiming Captain America had died and the mission was a success. Their satisfaction with this news, of course, was quite short-lived; a guard had rushed into the room and gave the news that Project Insight had failed, that Alexander Pierce was dead, and the mission was most certainly _not_ a success. They had screamed at Bucky, questioning why he left such important details out of his report, before ordering his memory wiped again so they could have him escort them from the city.

Everything blurred together after that. Bucky didn't really remember what he had done, only that he fought with a blind fury, desperate to keep what shards of memory he'd gathered. They were no match for him, despite outnumbering him, and he had been in the process of beating a scientist to death before he remembered Steve. Only then did Bucky let the man go, leaving all the HYDRA agents in unconscious heaps behind him. The two large black cases that his handlers took everywhere with them had been the only things he did not leave behind. There was a wealth of value in them, both to the Winter Soldier, and to Bucky Barnes.

The first case, the one he had already opened, contained the Winter Soldier's personal effects, at least to the extent that he had any personal things—his uniform, accessories, a copy of his HYDRA file, and a small lockbox. Bucky had only looked at the items once since fleeing Washington, D.C. He averted his eyes from everything but his uniform, and instead finished dressing with practiced ease. The only thing he left off for now was the face mask; he'd been given a replacement after losing the first one in his initial fight with Captain America, but Bucky hadn't worn it until now.

The second case Bucky opened contained weapons; it was the reason he was exceptionally paranoid about people entering or looking into his apartment, yet the Winter Soldier refused to be left without a few on hand. A Škorpion vz. 61 submachine gun, two standard P225 pistols, and a combat knife. He carefully holstered each of them into place with surprising calm and clarity. Bucky wasn't sure he liked it, but after so many years of conditioning and training, preparing for combat was the only thing he felt comfortable and sure about. Actually _being_ in combat? That was when he felt most alive.

This was dangerous, and he knew it. Not to his own well-being, but to the integrity of the life he had built here over the last several months. If anyone got a good look at him, it would be easy to identify him as the Winter Soldier. But there was clarity in purpose, and satisfaction in clarity. His mission, for the first time, was self-imposed.

 _Take out this bastard before he hurts Solace._

The masked criminal had already done enough to disrupt her life and cause her distress. Bucky aimed to stop all that for good.

With a resolute expression, he picked up his mask and fastened it into place. He took a breath and felt the veil of the soldier cloud his vision once again.

 _Target acquired. My mission is clear._ я готов начать. (1)

* * *

Aside from the numerous wails of police sirens in the distance, Bucky found that the city was relatively quiet after dark. Certainly there were still cars driving from place to place, but not nearly as many as there normally would be. He thought he'd heard on the news that the mayor had issued a temporary curfew for the safety of its citizens—any pedestrians walking around after dark without a particular destination in mind could be stopped, questioned, and even detained by police. For that reason, Bucky saw very few people outside as he scouted the rooftops. A curfew wasn't going to stop everyone from doing as they pleased, but it certainly made a difference.

Of course, it also meant Bucky had to be especially stealthy as he moved from building to building. Even just a brief glimpse of him could arouse suspicion, and he really did not want any confrontations. At least not until he found his targets.

The robbery he heard about on the news was probably over by now, but Bucky had a feeling the perpetrators would not have gone far. He had seen it in the eyes of the masked shooter—they wanted to be seen. They wanted to be heard. Stealing money probably didn't mean that much to them; they just wanted to show off their power. Bucky was certain that scaring civilians was part of that, but he also remembered the rumors of these criminals attempting to recruit others. Maybe this was to attract people to their cause, too. But regardless of whether his speculation was true or not, Bucky was more interested in bringing this threat to a swift end.

Leaping from building to building was nothing to him, even if the buildings were fairly far apart, and twenty minutes later, Bucky approached the intersection of where the robbery had occurred. There were, naturally, several cop cars blocking off the area, with a number of officers milling around. Bucky pressed himself close to the roof and peered down, trying to identify which building had been hit. A giant hole—looking very much like a bomb had been set by the front door—made it easy to determine.

Still, Bucky did not immediately move from his position. From what he could tell, it looked as though the cops here were only securing the area, and still concerned that the perpetrators could be in the area. Many of them had their weapons drawn or were taking defensive positions behind their vehicles as they discussed what to do. Bucky decided that either the criminals were still inside the building, or the police hadn't yet accounted for where all of them had gone. Well, Bucky would just have to figure it out before they called in a SWAT team and forced their way in.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky easily jumped off the roof, practically crushing in the metal lid of a dumpster as he landed. Unaffected, he leapt to the ground and immediately took off running, towards a back alley that led behind the building in question. He knew the sound of his landing would distract the officers, at least for a time. Once he rounded the corner of the building, he took a quick look around the back entrance.

There was a loading dock, though most of the bays were closed… with the exception of a trailer truck backed up to one. Bucky eyed the truck suspiciously—who would be loading a truck this late at night?—and ran towards a nearby rear door into the building. Though it was locked tightly, he had no trouble grabbing the handle and ripping the entire lock mechanism out of the door. It swung open, pathetically.

As he entered the building, Bucky found himself surrounded by many boxes and pallets of supplies, all stacked in organized sections and labeled clearly with the items inside. He scanned the items and determined they were either appliances, or replacement parts. Was this some kind of commercial appliance and parts direct store? There were a myriad of items here—washing machines, rotating saw parts, vending machines, generators, and more—but he couldn't figure out why these things would interest the criminals. If they had already hit a bank, there was no need to steal these items to resell. But what could they possibly use them for?

The sound of metal scraping on metal startled him. Bucky immediately ducked behind a stack of equipment, before peering out cautiously. Across the loading dock, several yards away and struggling with the door to the trailer truck, was one of the masked criminals. Even from here, Bucky could tell it was the smaller of the two he'd seen before. He watched them grunt and tug until the door finally rattled shut, and they wearily locked it up. They then leaped through the small space between the loading bay door and the rear of the truck to go back outside.

As the truck started up, Bucky quickly raced over to the rear of the truck and grabbed on to one of the handles. The truck moved forward slowly, lurching, as if the driver were uncertain with the controls. Judging by the size of the individual in question, Bucky wouldn't be surprised if they were having difficulties reaching the pedals to drive. Still, the truck began to drive off in a dull roar. Bucky hung on tight to the back of the truck as it pulled towards a main street, before forcing himself to climb onto the top of the trailer.

Once out on the street, the truck began to pick up speed at an alarming rate. Bucky had to use all his strength to hold on, especially since the vehicle was swerving badly, wobbling in and out of the lanes. He watched as cars in the opposing lane of traffic were forced onto the sidewalk to avoid the path of the oncoming truck. The sound of tires screeching and horns honking frantically filled the air, accompanied soon after by the sound of sirens in the distance, as the police caught on to what was happening.

This had to stop, and quickly. Someone was going to get hurt at this rate, and Bucky did not quite trust the police to capture the criminals before that happened. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to crawl along the length of the trailer, bit by bit, towards the truck's cab. As he approached the front of the trailer and readied himself to leap onto the cab, the truck suddenly swerved wildly, trying to avoid an incoming car. Bucky was flung sideways, and would have gone off the left side of the truck into the street below if he hadn't grabbed onto the cab roof. His cybernetic fingers dug in so hard that the metal bent under his grip, and for a moment, he dangled wildly over the road speeding by below him.

Bucky struggled to orient himself without letting go. His cybernetic arm didn't hurt, of course, but he was worried it would become damaged if he dangled there for too long; the truck's erratic movements could easily force him to wrench his arm in the wrong direction. He tried to grip the roof of the truck with his other hand, and as he did so, he happened to finally look into the truck cab. His eyes met the driver's, and he was startled at what he saw. There was no anger, no defiance. There was a genuine look of fear in the masked individual's eyes.

The Winter Soldier, however, cared little. He grabbed the roof with both hands, and, using his momentum, kicked in the driver's side window.

The steering wheel spun out of control as the driver dove sideways, trying to escape the shower of broken glass. The cab turned a hard right, while the trailer attempted to continue moving forward, and the whole truck slid left. Bucky felt the truck tipping and he realized he had to move, or he'd be crushed. He slid himself into the cab, grabbing the back of the driver's collar with his right hand. Using his left hand, he punched out the passenger side door and leaped out the other side. With an incredible screeching sound, the entire truck toppled sideways and smashed into a building. Bucky hit the ground with a grunt of pain and tumbled wildly, rolling several times across the street before coming to a halt.

For a moment, Bucky couldn't immediately move—not because he was injured, but because he was disoriented. He saw the night sky above him and the stars seemed familiar. He thought he could smell hot dogs and hear a delighted laugh next to him. Bucky turned his head, half-expecting to see a gap-toothed little boy with a wild mess of blond hair, smiling at him.

"Steve?" he groaned, shaking his head to try and clear his sight.

The vision faded, but the boy's face did not. At first, Bucky didn't understand what he was seeing. He sat up, looking around. Smoke billowed from the wrecked truck across the street from him, and the smell of burned rubber assaulted his senses. He looked back to his right again and saw the driver of the truck laying there next to him, whimpering in pain. His mask was broken and lay in the street a few feet away.

Bucky felt his heart leap into his throat. The masked perpetrator… was a young boy.

He had to be no more than 12-years old, and was clutching at his arm, tears spilling down his face. His dirty blond hair was a wild mess across his head, and blood dripped from a cut on his temple. He looked up, saw the Winter Soldier, and gasped.

"W-Who are you?" he whined, frightened.

 _No. No no no no no. This can't be right. This is all wrong; I don't… I can't…_

"Alec?" Bucky asked, in disbelief. He didn't recognize the boy's face, but in his heart, he knew it had to be true.

The boy's eyes widened. "H-How do you…?" he began, in a low, terrified whisper.

A gunshot cracked through the air, and if Bucky hadn't flinched, the bullet would have gone straight through his head. His ear stung with the sound of the shot whizzing past.

The Winter Soldier immediately jumped to his feet, his left arm raised defensively while his other hand reached for the pistol on his hip. He saw a figure leap down from the roof of a nearby store and slowly approach the two, rifle in hand. It was the masked shooter from before. Even if the man hadn't been wearing his signature mask and combat armor, Bucky could recognize the man's body shape, stance, and swagger as he walked towards them.

"Well, well, well… I did _not_ expect to see you here," the man chuckled. Bucky tensed at the voice; there was something vaguely familiar about it.

Alec cringed away from both men, struggling to get to his feet while still holding his injured arm. The masked man looked at him and gave a snort of derision.

"You're pathetic, kid. The mission is a bust. Just look at what you did." He pointed at the destroyed truck. "Well… maybe it ain't all your fault. I guess I didn't train you to take on the _Winter Soldier_."

Bucky narrowed his eyes as the masked man looked over at him again. "He's supposed to be the deadliest assassin HYDRA ever produced," the man continued. "Most people didn't even think he was real, until… well, until Washington, D.C. But he's nothing special. Just a guy HYDRA beat the shit out of and turned into their prized killing machine. Ain't that right, _Bucky boy_?"

"Who the hell are you?" Bucky finally growled, irritated at this man who seemed to know him so well.

With a chuckle, the masked man reached up with his free hand, grabbing at the back of his helmet and pulling it off in one quick move. Bucky's eyebrows raised at the face revealed—the disfigured, twisted flesh underneath was gruesome, but still recognizable.

 _That face… I know him… He—_

"You were there… at the bank…" Bucky whispered, shocked that he could still remember. This man… he had been a double agent, secretly allied with HYDRA while working within SHIELD.

"That's right. I _was_ there. Guess they didn't do a very good job scrambling your brains again if you still remember," the man snarled. "They used to call me Brock Rumlow, but I don't go by that no more. Here's a name you'd better remember, though: Crossbones." He put his helmet back on swiftly, before raising his rifle up into position. "Not that you'll be around long enough to tell your boss that I don't work for HYDRA anymore, or anybody else for that matter."

"I don't, either," Bucky replied, slowly backing away.

Crossbones laughed as he tightened his finger on the trigger. "Yeah, sure you don't. Doggies always need their masters, and you're one dead _bitch_!"

The Winter Soldier anticipated the spray of bullets before the familiar _pop pop pop_ even reached his ears. He dove to the right, hearing a few of the bullets bounce off his metal arm, before aiming and firing back with his pistol. Crossbones dodged the first two shots, but the third struck him in the shoulder, making him swear. The armor there appeared to absorb the shot, but it probably still stung.

"You'll pay for that, punk," Crossbones snarled.

Bucky drew his second pistol, annoyed. "You talk too much."

In between the furious bursts of rifle fire, Bucky aimed with both pistols and took several deliberate shots at his opponent, continuously moving towards better cover. Though Crossbones was just as skilled at blocking or dodging bullets as he was, Bucky still was able to nick the other man's helmet, causing a noticeable dent in his mask. Crossbones's rifle ran out of ammunition just as Bucky ducked behind a low concrete flower box on the sidewalk; he assumed his foe would take the opportunity to reload, but instead, he heard the pounding of footsteps behind him. Bucky immediately got to his feet and whirled to face his foe, at the precise moment Crossbones slid a blade from his gauntlet and brought it straight down towards him. The blade cracked hard against both of Bucky's pistols, and the two struggled to push the other back.

"Not half-bad, for someone who couldn't even kill Captain America," Crossbones hissed, attempting to bring his arm down.

"Like you did any better," Bucky retorted. The infuriated look in Crossbones's eyes, right before he kicked Bucky in the ribs and sent him flying backwards, was worth it. Mostly.

Bucky's back hit the nearest tree, and he gasped as the wind was momentarily knocked out of him. He had but a second to duck as Crossbones attempted to punch him in the head, and instead smashed a huge chunk out of the tree. Bucky holstered his right pistol and smoothly drew his knife, using the blade to force the larger man backwards with several skilled, threatening swipes. Crossbones hissed in pain as the knife sliced open an unprotected section on his arm, cutting through the clothing and drawing blood.

"All right, _Bucky_ , you're starting to piss me off." Crossbones flexed his arms, demonstrating the large gauntlets attached to each forearm. Bucky backed away warily as the gauntlets moved mechanically, realizing they had hydraulics in them to make his punches stronger. He tensed himself, ready for a fistfight, but the sound of approaching sirens made them turn. There were flashing lights coming steadily down the road towards them.

Crossbones scoffed, but stepped away from the Winter Soldier, albeit begrudgingly. "That's our cue to leave, kid," he shouted, pulling out a handgun and pointing it directly at Alec. "You know how this works."

Bucky pointed his own gun at Crossbones almost simultaneously. "Don't you dare."

"When'd you get soft, huh? Your star-spangled boyfriend give you heroic notions or something?" Crossbones kept his gun trained on the boy as he sidestepped towards a nearby alleyway, and Bucky could only watch helplessly as Alec got to his feet, retrieved his mask, and meekly retreated after the larger man. "If I see you again, you're dead, and so is the kid."

"Freeze! Don't move, any of you!" The first police cars were on the scene, and officers were already drawing their guns and exiting their vehicles, ready to fight if needed.

Furious, Bucky holstered his weapons again. He fancied he could see a grin behind Crossbones's mask as both he and Alec disappeared down the side street.

 _Damn it all. I wasn't expecting a kid… Alec…_

"Hands up! Now!"

The voices of the police officers snapped him back to attention, and without even bothering to glance in their direction, Bucky turned and ran. Several shots rang out, and he had to jerk his left arm behind him to block some of the bullets. He charged straight towards the nearest building and scaled up the wall, grabbing on to a windowsill with one hand. A bullet bounced hard off the side of his face mask, and he sucked in a surprised breath. These guys were actually pretty good shots.

It took him only a few more moves to climb up onto the roof, out of sight from the police. He knew it wouldn't last long, so he started running, in a direction completely opposite to where his apartment was. His lungs burned and his face hurt and he was furious with himself for failing to do what he had set out to accomplish that evening.

 _Wasted breath, wasted bullets, absolute failure._ Бесполезный. (2)

The Winter Soldier wouldn't have let anything interfere, not even a child. Bucky Barnes, however, was a different man. It was only now that he realized he wasn't the sum of what HYDRA did to him. He didn't _have_ to be.

Two hours later, after taking a roundabout route to lose the police, Bucky found himself back in his apartment, breathing heavily over his bathroom sink and coughing up blood from where a rib had cracked in his chest. He hissed in pain and tried not to look at his reflection in the mirror. He didn't know what he was supposed to be concerned about anymore; his health was negligible, but he still felt like he couldn't do this.

 _The Winter Soldier could. Bucky can't._ _I_ _can't._

He wiped his mouth and staggered into his bedroom, where his uniform and weapons lay strewn across the floor. He ignored them, going straight to the side table and grabbing his phone. The dial tone sounded loud in the silence of the dark room.

"Uhh… Hello?" Solace's voice sounded tired and confused; he probably just woke her out of a sound sleep.

"Solace."

"Hm? Bucky…?" Her voice had a touch of concern in it, and it made the breath catch in his chest. "What is it?"

"I…"

 _Can't do this, can't keep lying to you, can't ever be worth this—_

"I think I love you."

The silence on her end felt like it lasted forever, though he was certain it was only the space of a few heartbeats.

"Y-You… what? W-Why…?" She sounded startled, even a little scared, and that was all right. Perhaps that was just how it had to be.

"I love you," he repeated. The words sounded foreign in his ears, and he had to keep saying it to make sure he believed it, too. "I love you and I'm sorry—so sorry—"

Solace gasped, painful and frantic, and she all but whimpered into the phone. "Why? What happened? Bucky…"

"I'm not worthy of this. I'm not worthy of you." He could taste the blood in the back of his throat and he breathed, suddenly calm. He closed his eyes and felt himself smile weakly.

"But I'm going to try to be."

 _I can't fail you too._

* * *

 _Translations:_

(1) я готов начать. _[Ya gotov nachat.] – "I'm ready to begin."_

(2) Бесполезный. _[Bespoleznyy] – "Useless"_

* * *

 _Crossbones is really fun to work with. And writing Bucky getting into the role of the Winter Soldier again is even more so. :) Love writing action scenes; they're challenging but worth the effort!_

 _Once again, thank you all for all your support thus far! And apologies for the slightly late chapter again; it was my birthday this week so I've been busy with that! Hope you all enjoy this chapter; please consider reviewing and letting me know what you think!_


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Notes: This chapter is not only a long one, but much more action packed! There is a major fight scene ahead, though the content should be comparable to the previous chapter's. Language is also somewhat more intense, thanks to a certain villain's potty mouth. :P I hope you all enjoy!_

 _ **Chapter 8**_

Bucky might have briefly opened his eyes at 5 am as usual, but the room was still pitch black and he was still utterly exhausted. He closed his eyes and fell asleep again almost immediately.

The sunlight sneaking in through the tiny gaps in his blinds finally woke him up several hours later. He stared at the ceiling and inhaled deeply. The lack of stabbing pain in his chest was a good sign; hopefully that meant his ribs had healed overnight. With a tired groan, he forced himself to sit up and get out of bed. The routine was still important, perhaps even more so now that the mission had escalated.

He went through the usual motions of showering and grooming; this time he forced himself to look at his reflection in the mirror. There was a noticeably dark bruise on the right side of his jaw, where the police officer's bullet had hit his face mask, but otherwise he looked all right. Tired, but all right. His ribs felt bruised but healed as well, which was reassuring. He still had a mission to do and he wasn't going to let some injuries interfere with that.

Upon heading back into his bedroom, Bucky noticed his phone had a voicemail message on it that hadn't been there before. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he studied his phone with trepidation. Last night, he remembered hanging up as soon as he'd said what he wanted to say to Solace, then silencing his phone and collapsing into bed immediately after. He knew it was a terrible thing to do to her, judging from the four missed calls from her the night before, and suddenly he was grateful she didn't know where he lived. She probably would have come straight over, banging on the door until he let her in and explained himself. He'd do the exact same thing in her place.

Come to think of it, Bucky didn't know _why_ he'd felt the need to call her. He remembered an overwhelming sense of guilt, most likely because of Alec and his inability to help him. But the rest had spilled out almost too naturally, as if there was some impending deadline and he knew he had to say _something_ before it was too late. It wasn't that he thought he was going to die or anything… no, Bucky wasn't afraid of that. He didn't even need to hear her say it back.

But the situation was escalating dangerously, and as much as he desperately wanted it to be otherwise, the truth of the matter was that Solace was dating the Winter Soldier. It was never going to be safe for her, and it was never going to be fair for her, either.

Bucky sighed and buried his face in his hands for a minute. Even if he fought as hard as he could, even if he broke every bone in his body and bled himself dry, it wasn't going to be enough to save this.

When he finally composed himself again, he lifted the phone to his ear and listened to the voicemail.

"… _Hey. It's me again. Solace. I… I don't know what happened last night. To be honest, you really had me worried. I don't… know what it is you're so sorry about, but I… I want you to know it's ok. Whatever it is. Just don't… don't do anything stupid. Please."_

He could hear her sigh, and Bucky frowned. He hated that she was so worried about him. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything last night. Maybe instead, he should have told her he didn't want to see her anymore. It would have been a lie, but at least he would have let her down quickly. Her sadness might even turn to hatred, and then at least she could move on faster and leave memories of him behind.

But the thought was unbearable, and Bucky shook his head fiercely. He could break her heart in so many ways, but he could never tell her that he didn't love her.

"… _Whatever I did to make you feel so undeserving… I'm sorry. I-I really am. You're supposed to be the most important thing to me, and I can't do that right, either."_ Her voice sounded strained, on the edge of tears, and his jaw tightened in response. _"Call me… if you want. I… I-I miss you, Bucky. Bye."_

He snapped the phone shut, resisting the urge to throw it across the room, and collapsed backwards on his bed again. "Dammit."

Bucky didn't know why Solace was suddenly so apologetic. She hadn't done anything wrong, as far as he was concerned. She was just too nice, always concerned with how he felt.

He took a deep breath and sat up again, forcing his emotions back down and pulling the soldier back to the forefront like a bulwark. For so long he'd been running from this identity, but now he welcomed it as the only thing that felt familiar and strong anymore. The Winter Soldier bristled against his sentiment and shrugged it off like an irritation, and suddenly everything dancing through his mind was in complete clarity. Even breathing felt easier.

 _The mission hasn't changed, and neither have I. This time, it ends for good._

* * *

The day passed slowly as Bucky bided his time. He was anxious to hunt down Crossbones and help Alec, but at the same time, knew he couldn't endanger himself or anyone else around him. If they got into a confrontation and the police got involved, a messy firefight could ensue, especially if they didn't realize Alec was a child. Much as he hated to do it, Bucky would let Crossbones make the first move.

Bucky spent most of the day in his bedroom, keeping the window open but the blinds down, listening for his downstairs neighbor playing the news throughout the day. Whoever it was had to be elderly or hard of hearing or something… but he was grateful for them loudly sharing their television. The news reports of what happened last night spoke about the wrecked truck filled with machines and parts, as well as mentioning there were now three "masked suspects." They didn't mention anything about the Winter Soldier, so Bucky couldn't help but wonder if the police either didn't get a good look at him, or if the media had been forbidden to speak about the Winter Soldier, and government agents were already on their way. He sighed at the thought as he picked at his lunch.

It wasn't until just after 6 pm that a breaking news report finally caught his attention. Crossbones and his accomplice had just hijacked an armored truck at a jewelry store, injuring the guards and threatening their lives until the driver had given them the vehicle. There had been nothing of value in the truck itself; the jewelry had already been delivered into the store, and neither of the masked criminals had made any attempt to enter the building. The truck seemed to be the only thing they wanted.

Bucky chewed on his lip and considered. This was definitely what he'd been waiting for, but he worried that the armored vehicle would make it difficult, if not impossible, to effectively fight his opponent. Was that why Crossbones had stolen it? Either way, he didn't want to pass up this opportunity. Crossbones could very well use the vehicle to escape the city now that he knew the Winter Soldier was probably after him. Then Bucky would never be able to save Alec, and he'd be lost forever to a fate he never chose.

 _Just like me._

Bucky glared at the black cases still lying open on the bedroom floor. It was time.

After putting on his uniform and reloading his weapons, Bucky equipped himself again and peered out the window. The sun was starting to set, but there were still plenty of people on the roads at this hour. He would have to be especially careful until most people had returned home and everything quieted down.

Bucky turned away to reach for his face mask, where he'd placed it on the end of the bed, and was surprised to find his phone lying next to it; he had forgotten about it since that morning. He stared at it uncertainly, before he picked it up and automatically called Solace's number, as if it were instinct. To his surprise, she didn't answer; instead, it went to her voicemail. He hesitated only briefly, before speaking.

"Hey… Solace, it's me. I'm… really sorry about last night, and not calling you back earlier, and…" He stopped himself, blinking slowly, bathed in the pink and orange of the sunset filtering into the bedroom. He tried to tell himself that completing his mission was the only way he could make Solace happy anymore, but maybe she'd never know what he was planning to do for her.

"…Listen. Everything you've ever done for me… it's been great. Don't think for a moment that you did something wrong, because you didn't. I've always been happy with you. And… if nothing else, I want to promise you… that I meant what I said. You're beautiful and sweet and caring and… too perfect for me."

His throat swelled for a moment, as a hint of emotion rose up in him, but the Winter Soldier pushed it back down.

"And you know what? I miss you too, kitten."

The phone snapped shut, and Bucky let it drop to the bed again. In its place, he picked up the face mask and studied it. There was a faint crack in the side from where the bullet had hit him, and he was reminded that this time, there would be no second chances.

The Winter Soldier fastened his mask on, and smiled grimly. This time, he wasn't going to _need_ a second chance.

* * *

For a change of pace, Bucky decided to stick to the back alleys and side streets, using balconies and alcoves and any other cover he could to slink in and out of the shadows and avoid being seen. At first, he assumed this would be the riskier option—it certainly was the trickier option, as there were still a number of people on the streets heading home at the end of the day. But normal civilians were much easier to evade than the trained professionals combing the streets for signs of criminals, and Bucky quickly noticed that out of all the police officers he saw, most of them were staring skyward. He realized they had wised up to how the Winter Soldier had escaped the scene last time, and were determined not to miss him on the rooftops tonight. He shook his head, amused, and continued roaming the streets.

Once the sun finished going down, the streets were much quieter, now that everyone had gone home and the police would be enforcing curfew. Despite the fact that Bucky located the scene of the armored vehicle hijacking, he realized there weren't going to be any leads here. The truck was long gone, and even the police working the scene weren't moving with any sense of urgency. Though annoyed that he had not arrived fast enough, Bucky knew he would have to move on. He easily hopped up the nearest fire escape, heading to the roof for a better view of the city.

The skyline from this vantage point was gorgeous. At first, Bucky found himself a little entranced by the view; the lights were sprinkled like glitter across the dark silhouettes of the buildings visible in every direction. Each light was a hope, a testimony to someone's life or activity at that very moment. He crouched at the edge of the rooftop, his breath rising translucent and cloudy into the cold air before him, and blinked at the landscape. He knew perfectly well that he was no hero, and was not fighting for everyone in the city. But there was a sense of purpose in realizing that stopping Crossbones might benefit other innocent people, too.

 _Irrelevant._

The soldier in him was not interested in such sentiments.

Bucky was about to begin moving again, when he heard a sudden, loud shout. His first impulse was to duck low and reach for the submachine gun on his back, but when he saw nothing within his field of vision, Bucky sat up again and looked around. He realized that the shout had come from the street below; he looked down and saw a police officer in a patrol car, yelling at a pair of teenagers on the sidewalk.

"No exceptions!" she scolded, as the teens attempted to mumble some kind of excuse for being out after dark. "The curfew is for your own safety. There's just been a report that a fire was set not too far from here. These criminals have no regard for anyone's welfare, and that includes you!"

Intrigued, Bucky lifted his head and looked across the skyline again, wondering if he could catch a glimpse of flame or smoke. The city lights made it difficult to tell, but the Winter Soldier was trained to catch the subtle details in the distance, and note how a certain warm, flickering glow just on the corner of his vision was different than all the other lights. The wail of far-off sirens only made Bucky certain that this was his next destination.

Taking another quick glance around, Bucky headed toward the opposite side of the building, away from where the police cruiser was parked, and hopped off the roof to a small balcony below him. Another leap brought him back down to ground level, and he took off running in the direction of where he had spotted the flames. He made sure to hug the walls as he moved, ready to duck for cover if he encountered anyone; he only had to do this twice, when fire trucks and police cars drove by, sirens screaming.

The path of these various emergency vehicles only made it easier for Bucky to find the route to the fire scene, and he could smell the smoke thick in the air long before he saw it or the orange embers leaping high into the night sky. Bucky ducked low behind a nearby dumpster as he approached the site; the police already had the area closed off, keeping a safe distance from the fire a few blocks further down the road. He was alarmed to see the fire was at a gas station, right off a major intersection; a few cars had been set alight, and several of the pumps and the car port itself were also starting to catch fire.

"…Yeah, it's those masked maniacs all right. They were seen driving west in that armored car they stole earlier. …It could have been worse, though." Bucky heard a nearby firefighter loudly talking into a radio, explaining the situation to someone else on the other end. "An employee turned off the gas to the pumps almost immediately. Otherwise this would be way worse. …Yeah, everyone got out safe. Thank God."

Bucky felt relieved, too. Unfortunately, he realized he was still playing catch up to Crossbones. How was he going to pin down this guy if the best Bucky could do was follow his crime spree around the city? Still… the firefighter had mentioned them driving west. That was something, at least. He only hoped it meant Crossbones was headed to the site of another crime… and not leaving the city for parts unknown.

The Winter Soldier huffed impatiently and retreated to a safer distance, before racing up the side of a building to reach the rooftops again. He was fairly confident the police would be busy with this scene, at least for now, so he began moving west at a rapid speed, leaping from building to building with ease. Where he couldn't reach the next building, he'd leap to the empty streets below and keep running. The cold air was harsh in his lungs as he breathed heavily, but his blood was hot and his heart raced with the excitement of impending battle. It had to end in a fight. It had to end in success. Anything less now was unacceptable.

As he continued racing through the city, he found that the density of the buildings slowly started to taper out, as businesses gave way to rows of houses. Bucky paused in the middle of the street, panting and trying to determine which way to continue. He could smell the harshness of freshly-burnt rubber lingering in the air, and he looked down to see a dark streak of tire tracks curving left. He studied the empty road dubiously, before starting to run again.

The dimness of the neighborhood streets eventually shifted to bright, piercing lamp lights, and Bucky realized he was approaching a construction site. A very large one, at that. Though the lights remained on, there didn't appear to be any workers nearby. A sign hanging on the tall fence surrounding the site indicated this was to be a new apartment building.

The soldier slowed to a walk and hesitated, even after noting the fresh tire tracks leading straight into the construction site. From what he could see, there would only be minimal cover in such a place, and though he was no stranger to fighting in the open, Bucky didn't prefer it. Especially since he knew his opponent would be equipped with firearms. But he reminded himself of Alec, and with a sigh, he reached up to grab the gun hanging at his back. Cautiously, he crept towards the entrance into the construction site, taking a furtive peek around the fence and creating a mental note of the layout. A few empty construction vehicles were parked here and there, but the majority of the area was large, clear, and covered in dirt, as if it had just been prepared for development.

Bucky didn't see anyone immediately, so he quickly raced towards the nearest vehicle—an excavator—and ducked down by its rear tires. He paused, just to make sure his presence hadn't resulted in any response… and was surprised to hear voices. They came from the other side of the construction area, several yards away. While he was pleased that he wasn't at a dead end, and there was someone here… Bucky was also startled to hear more than the two expected voices. He carefully peered out and finally took note of who he had stumbled across.

There, straight across from him on the other side of the construction site, was the armored truck. Standing in front of it were Crossbones and Alec, both dressed in their masked combat attire as usual. Even from where he was hiding, Bucky could see the crack across Alec's mask from their encounter the night before. The boy was still, his head dipped down. Crossbones, in contrast, stood tall next to him, his arms folded over his chest. His carbine was strapped across his back.

Standing between the masked duo and Bucky was a third individual that he did not recognize. Their back was turned to Bucky, facing Crossbones and Alec, but they appeared to be wearing a form-fitting, violet outfit with matching boots. A green hood covered their head, hiding any other identifying features, though if he had to guess, Bucky would assume they were female, based on their stance and the manner of outfit.

"If you'd been here on time, we wouldn't have taken a joyride and set the gas station on fire," Crossbones was telling the third individual. "We were bored."

" _You_ were bored," the newcomer clarified, voice low with anger, but unmistakably feminine. "You left a lot of people terrified and injured with that joyride. I had to clean up the mess. If you want me to show up on time, quit fooling around."

The Winter Soldier narrowed his eyes at this puzzling exchange. Maybe Crossbones really did have more companions, after all?

Crossbones snickered and unfolded his arms, taking a few steps towards the woman. "You don't get to boss me around, little girl," he snarled. "Especially not after what you pulled last night."

The woman seemed to recoil at the accusation. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh really? I'll remind you, then—you hired an assassin to handle your dirty work, cause you knew you couldn't take me. Yeah, that's right. Don't look so surprised. I figured you had some connections, but whew—the Winter Soldier? Didn't think you'd stoop so low. Or had pockets so deep."

"I honestly don't know what you're babbling about," the woman snapped. Bucky could see her hands ball up into fists, her body rigid with tension. "I did what you asked and left you alone for the evening. And what does the Winter Soldier have to do with anything?"

With a sigh, Crossbones shook his head and continued to approach the woman; she backed away defensively. "I've been super patient with you," he said, as if he were lecturing her. "I was willing to give you what _you_ wanted, if you let me grab the stuff _I_ wanted. Well, guess what—thanks to your Russian ninja, I'm out of that stuff. It all got blown to hell. So you know what that means? No deal. I'm keeping what I took."

"No!" This time, the woman sounded a bit more desperate, and the soldier twitched at the note of panic in her voice. "I had nothing to do with what you're talking about! I stayed home just like you said—even after you tried to intimidate me! It's not my fault you didn't—"

"Shut it, little lady," he hissed. "I'm getting pretty pissed off at you. I should have just killed the kid when I had the chance. Didn't think it was going to be this convoluted. But I had a vision, a dream—maybe it was a little too ambitious. Shoulda just focused on the damn machine instead of trying to juggle this little brat at the same time."

When Crossbones flexed his arms, Bucky tensed, afraid he was going to reach for his gun, maybe even point it at Alec and make good on his threat. Instead, the man raised his fists, and the hydraulics in his gauntlets moved.

"Hell, nah. I had a good thing going. _You're_ the one I should've killed," he sneered, before suddenly breaking into a charge.

Bucky instinctively raised his gun in the split second it took for Crossbones to reach the woman and throw a powerful punch straight at her. He could hear Alec scream in the background, and saw the woman raise her hand just before Crossbones's fist hit her.

Or… did it? Bucky thought he saw a strange light in the air before her, just before the attack connected. Either way, the woman gave a small cry as she was flung backward by the impact, hitting the dirt hard and tumbling a few times before coming to a stop.

Crossbones didn't even flinch, as he continued walking towards her, slamming his fists together. "Nice reflexes, bitch."

The woman, surprisingly, was able to sit up, looking scuffed but otherwise well. Bucky shifted his position behind the excavator to try and avoid her notice, as she shakily got to her feet. He kept his gun at the ready and circled around the back of the vehicle, trying his best to keep an eye on Alec. Maybe he could take advantage of the distraction and help Alec while he had the chance.

But before Bucky could decide, Crossbones rushed at the woman once again, swinging both fists wildly. She dodged the first attack smoothly, and then lifted her right arm as if to block the punch coming straight for her. Again, the air seemed to distort with a straight, translucent purple light, and Crossbones's fist was stopped in midair by what appeared to be a force field of some kind. He recoiled at the obstacle, giving her time to spin and kick him straight in the gut, forcing him backwards.

"Didn't you learn your lesson last time?" Crossbones taunted, recovering easily from the attack. "You're lucky I let you limp home then."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?" she retorted.

With a roar, Crossbones lunged at her again. Every time his punches attempted to hit her, Bucky could see the translucent light shield her, providing a bulwark against her larger foe. But despite the fluidity of her movements, Bucky could tell that blocking each attack was no small feat. As Crossbones brought his left fist down again, the shield seemed to waver just a little when it blocked the blow. The woman staggered, perhaps buckling under the force of his punch, and Crossbones took the opportunity to swing around and backhand her. She cried out in pain and crumpled to her knees. Even under her hood, Bucky could see she was bleeding.

"No! Stop it!" Alec suddenly screamed, bringing both combatants to a halt as they looked at him. He reached up, yanked off his helmet, and threw it angrily to the ground. "You promised you wouldn't hurt her!"

Crossbones sighed as he looked back at the woman slowly sitting up. She appeared to be stunned by the blood dripping from her face, touching it gingerly. "Deal's off, kiddo," he explained, contemptuously. "No one else was supposed to get involved."

"Including me… right?"

The woman had managed to force herself to her feet again. With a furious tug, she yanked the hood away from her head and tossed it aside, revealing long brown hair as well as the bloody lip and nose her opponent had inflicted on her. A pair of violet-framed goggles covered her eyes, but did nothing to mask her defiant expression.

Bucky felt his heart leap into his throat.

 _No… it… it can't be…_

He knew that face, perhaps even better than he knew the features of his own. Stroked it, studied it, kissed that beautiful mouth so many times before. Yet he was so unprepared to see it here, now, that he felt himself paralyzed with doubt. Just like before.

 _Solace…? You're…?_

" _I'm with you till the end of the line."_

Bucky heard Steve's voice again in the back of his mind, and like déjà vu, the sudden realization hit him hard. He sucked in a sharp, panicked breath; it was so overwhelming that it nearly hurt.

 _Not again. Not here… Please no, I can't lose you too—_

"You're right," Crossbones sneered, eyeing her with contempt. "I only made the deal because I thought it'd keep you from getting authorities involved. But now I realize you wanted to handle this yourself."

"I'm _not_ letting you take him," Solace hissed.

The Winter Soldier jerked himself back to attention, just in time to see Crossbones suddenly pulling his gun from his back. He assumed Solace was to be the target, but instead, the rifle swung to the side and back towards Alec.

"And _I'm_ not giving you the satisfaction of saving him," Crossbones replied.

His finger tightened on the trigger, but Bucky moved faster. He pointed his gun, aimed, and fired; the spray of bullets startled Crossbones and knocked the gun aside. Alec threw himself to the ground with a cry of terror as the shots peppered the side of the armored truck instead.

"Alec!" Solace gasped. Despite her injuries, she braced herself as if to run to the boy's side. But she froze in shock as Bucky stepped into view from behind the excavator, his gun still raised and pointed directly at Crossbones.

Crossbones tensed, still holding his gun to the side. He was intelligent enough to realize he would never get the rifle aimed before Bucky got a shot off first. "Well, well, well," he grinned. "Speak of the devil."

Bucky remained silent, his face expressionless behind his mask as he kept his gun trained on his enemy. His eyes first darted to the left, where he could see Alec crawling away to safety, behind the armored vehicle. Good. His eyes then darted right, to Solace standing several yards away. She obviously didn't recognize Bucky as the Winter Soldier, but she must have heard of the assassin from somewhere, judging by the mix of surprise and terror in her eyes as she stared at him. Her expression hurt him… but only for a moment.

"Backing up your boss, I see," Crossbones laughed. Bucky wasn't oblivious to the way the man was slowly, subtly backing away, trying to hide how his arm was shifting into a better position to make a split second move. "Give this boy a raise, little girl."

"I'm _not_ working for her," Bucky growled, annoyed at Crossbones's mistaken interpretation… especially since it had needlessly put both Solace and Alec in danger. Perhaps that was Bucky's own fault, though, for trying to get involved. "I just don't like you."

Solace raised her eyebrows at the statement, and despite the tense situation, her mouth curled into a playful smirk. "Oooh, burn," she taunted.

Whether it was on purpose or not, her words seemed to strike a nerve. Forgetting his previous caution, Crossbones roared, immediately whipped the rifle up, and fired several shots towards Bucky. A normal person would have been caught off guard and killed instantly, but the Winter Soldier saw his opponent's movements a mile away. He shifted his position fluidly, moving to the right and lifting his cybernetic arm to deflect several of the shots. With his other hand, he fired back, and several of the bullets struck their mark. Most of them were stopped by Crossbones's armor, but at least one shot made the man hiss in pain and recoil; the bullet appeared to have hit or grazed a weakly-armored section of his arm.

But the pain only seemed to incense Crossbones, and he kept firing, moving the rifle in an attempt to hit Bucky somewhere on his body that his arm could not block. To Bucky's surprise, he saw a translucent light before him, and the bullets appeared to bounce safely off. He looked over at Solace, realizing she was protecting him with… with… whatever it was she could do. Her face was serious, resolute; even if she had no idea who the Winter Soldier was, or even if she was afraid of his reputation… she seemed to know instinctively that she would need his help to fight Crossbones.

His admiration of her nearly blinded him to Crossbones moving the rifle to point at Solace instead. She remained unprotected, with all her focus on Bucky. Before Crossbones could finish squeezing the trigger, Bucky drew a pistol from his belt and fired. The bullet hit spot on, knocking the shot aside and blowing apart the tip of the rifle's barrel. Solace immediately ducked for cover and dropped the shield she had on Bucky, though the shot easily missed her. Swearing, Crossbones tried to fire again, but the next few shots were easily wide of his target, and the awkward pause immediately after indicated that he had run out of ammo.

Relieved, Bucky raised both his pistol and submachine gun and fired calmly at his target, knowing that Solace would be safe for the time being. Reacting quickly, Crossbones backed away and used one of his gauntlets to block the shots, before flinging his empty rifle straight at Bucky. He had to move his left arm to deflect the object, and in the few seconds it took to do so, Crossbones was charging straight for him.

The Winter Soldier managed to get a few more shots off before the trigger clicked empty, and his opponent was too close. He swung the submachine gun and struck the man across the face; Crossbones's helmet was knocked slightly askew, causing his initial punch to miss. Bucky threw his gun aside and smashed the side of his elbow into Crossbones's face; his opponent responded with another punch of his own that sent Bucky tumbling backwards. He managed to land upright in a crouched position, but before he could bring his pistol up, Crossbones grabbed his left wrist and jerked it aside. Bucky stood up and tried to shove the larger man backwards, but was instead met with an explosion of pain, as Crossbones head-butted him viciously in the forehead.

"Guess I was right—your precious little Cap made you soft," Crossbones hissed.

Bucky gritted his teeth, incensed at Crossbones bringing Steve into this. He didn't care what insults his foe wanted to hurl at him, but the mere mention of his friend—yes, his _friend_ , no matter what the state of his memory—made Bucky desperately protective and furious.

"He _makes_ me stronger!" he snarled, pulling back his fist and driving it upwards into the gap between Crossbones's helmet and his chest armor. The man gave a choked gurgle of pain and staggered backwards, unable to breathe. Yet he didn't lose his footing; he only coughed desperately and balled his fists.

"Y-you little shit…!" Crossbones gasped, raising a fist to attack… only to grunt in confusion as some sort of unseen force kept his fist stuck in place. He struggled, unable to move; Bucky quickly looked over to see Solace with her hands raised, obviously concentrating hard. He could see the faint, tell-tale shimmer of light that indicated her… power? Yes, it was probably safe to call it that.

Solace's gaze met his, and she nodded firmly. "Make this bastard _pay_ ," she growled.

The Winter Soldier took the command and savored it. This was not merely the rush of battle, the adrenaline flooding his veins. No… this time, he felt a thrill of pleasure course through him, setting his blood alight. A part of him realized, dimly, that it was not unlike how he normally felt when he was with Solace—hungry, passionate, and eager to give in.

 _Even now, you light my fire, beautiful girl._

With a furious kick, Bucky knocked Crossbones backwards several paces. He smoothly tossed his pistol from his left hand to his right, then charged forward to deliver a powerful punch straight to his opponent's face. Crossbones stumbled, but when Bucky brought his gun to bear again, the armored man lashed out with his gauntlet, knocking it out of his hand. His follow-up punch was powerful, but Bucky still managed to block it with his cybernetic arm. He delivered several quick, vicious punches of his own to Crossbones's torso, forcing the larger man to double back and take a defensive posture. This time, Crossbones was able to block each of Bucky's attacks, allowing himself to be forced backwards until he found an opening. He feinted a dodge, before ducking under Bucky's next punch and driving his shoulder hard into his opponent's chest. Bucky crumpled under the force of the blow, falling to one knee. Crossbones immediately aimed a punch directly at his unprotected head, but his fist bounced away from yet another of Solace's shielding abilities.

Bucky quickly regained his footing, watching as Crossbones attempted to aim a kick at him, but was thwarted again by Solace's power. He realized she was studying their moves—both his and Crossbones's—playing off the rhythm of their attacks and carefully weaving in her shields when it was most advantageous. He threw another punch, and Solace instantly dropped the shield, allowing Bucky's attack to connect with Crossbones's face and send him sprawling to the ground.

"For not working for her," Crossbones panted, attempting to stand, "you two seem awfully chummy."

The Winter Soldier drew his second pistol and pointed it at his opponent with a cold glare. "Don't sound so jealous."

His finger tightened on the trigger, intent on finishing Crossbones off, but something in the back of his mind twitched. _This is too easy, he's too unconcerned; wait, no, he's—_

The gun went off just as Crossbones moved again. He shifted just enough in that split second to avoid the bullet going directly through his head; instead, the bullet hit him in the left forearm, just above his gauntlet, as he attempted to block the shot. He gave a shout, something between pain and anger, before charging at Bucky. Despite his injury, he grabbed Bucky's right wrist just as the gun fired again; the shot missed and Crossbones twisted Bucky's arm hard, forcing him to loosen his grip on the pistol. Bucky instantly punched with his left fist, landing a blow into Crossbones's jaw, but the hit barely deterred him; Crossbones responded by driving his knee into Bucky's stomach and knocking him backwards to the ground.

The soldier tensed, as Crossbones picked up Bucky's pistol and aimed it at him. Bucky tensed, ready to bring his left arm up as he watched his opponent squeeze the trigger. But as soon as a shimmer of light appeared in the air before him, Crossbones instead whipped his arm to the left and fired.

Bucky immediately turned, but he didn't need to watch the bullet to know where it was aimed. He didn't need to hear Crossbones's satisfied chuckle to know that Solace hadn't been able to shield herself, that her only focus had been on him. He didn't need to see her crumple to her knees, or the blood seeping through her fingers, to know she'd been hit.

No… in that moment, all the Winter Soldier could see was _red_.

A scream of fury escaped him as he got to his feet and threw himself at Crossbones. The two grappled briefly over the pistol, before Bucky was able to hold his opponent's arm steady and drive his knee up into Crossbones's elbow. The gun fell to the ground, and Crossbones responded by delivering another headbutt to his foe's face. Bucky grunted in pain as Crossbones's helmet collided hard with his own face mask, and he could hear a sharp crack in the air as the two stumbled away from each other.

"She was in way over her head," Crossbones taunted, though his voice was strained with exertion. "Hope you weren't too attached to her."

Bucky's answer was to draw his combat knife, his fist shaking as it tightened around the handle. The soldier had to force him not to look over at Solace and see if she was all right; there was nothing he could do for her right this second anyway, and if he saw her injured _or worse_ he didn't know if he would be able to continue.

"You _hurt_ her," he growled, a low rage and realization building in his voice. "Not just now, but before, too. You son of a bitch."

Crossbones hesitated for a moment, his eyes obviously confused and surprised by the statement. But he quickly recovered and lunged forward, attempting to knock the weapon out of his opponent's hand. The Winter Soldier dodged easily, slamming his left hand hard into Crossbones's chest while striking with the knife in his other hand. His target was the neck, unprotected as it was, but Crossbones was obviously skilled enough to block the strikes, either by moving his helmet or lifting his gauntlet into the blade's path. Frustrated, Bucky instead surprised Crossbones by striking him across the face with the knife handle, before plunging it as hard as he could into his upper chest. While Bucky knew the blade would not cause any lethal injury—the protective armor cracked, but easily absorbed the attack—it still would hurt. Right now, the idea of causing his enemy pain was the only thing that kept him moving.

 _No one hurts my girl and gets away with it._

Crossbones gave a short cry of pain and, with a sudden burst of strength, backhanded Bucky viciously across the face, snapping his head sideways and sending him sprawling to the ground.

"That's right," he hissed, ripping the knife out from his chest armor and throwing it contemptuously to the dirt. " _That's_ what I did to her."

Bucky gasped for breath, the blow leaving him dazed for a moment. He could taste blood in his mouth, and he realized his mask was hanging just below his chin, broken by the force of Crossbones's attack. With a furious gesture, he ripped it from his face and threw it aside. He sat up shakily and tried to get to his feet, but froze at the sound of a small gasp. He looked to his right, to see beautiful, wide, horrified brown eyes staring at him.

"Bucky…?" Solace whispered, her face twisted in confusion and agony. She was lying just several feet away from him, her hand clutching at the bullet wound in her right shoulder.

He stared at her, unable to look away, feeling his throat tighten and his breaths grow faster, more panicked, despite the soldier's best efforts to focus. Even with all his own shock about discovering Solace here, seeing her with powers of her own… it was nothing compared to what she must be feeling. He was the _Winter Soldier_. He worked for HYDRA. He had been murdering people since before she was born.

 _I told you I wasn't the person you thought I was._

The guilt was so dizzying that Bucky couldn't look away. He didn't notice Crossbones until he felt a hand seize him by the neck and lift him off the ground.

"I've had enough of your stupid little attempt at heroics, _Bucky_ ," Crossbones snapped, squeezing hard and watching his opponent struggle to break free. "But hey, look on the bright side—you put up more of a fight than she did."

Just before Bucky thought he was going to pass out, Crossbones threw him hard to the ground. He only had a brief moment to gasp for breath before he was kicked hard in the ribs, sending him tumbling across the dirt. He struggled to sit up again, but Crossbones shoved him back to the ground again, gripping Bucky by the throat with his left hand. With the other, he delivered punch after ferocious punch to his helpless foe's face. Pinned as he was, Bucky was helpless to do anything; he could only taste blood in his throat and see blurry, dazed stars as he was struck again and again. He couldn't even breathe—

"Stop it!" Solace screamed, and Bucky heard Crossbones shout in surprise. He forced himself to open his eyes and see Crossbones's arm jerked backwards by some great force.

The Winter Soldier didn't think about the opportunity; he simply took it. With his left hand, he gripped Crossbones's gauntlet as hard as he could, growling as he felt the cybernetics in his arm straining. The metal in the gauntlet slowly caved, and once Bucky felt his fingers find a hold, he jerked on it, hard. The gauntlet was ripped nearly in half, forcing Crossbones to loosen his hold. In response, Bucky braced himself and slammed both feet directly into the larger man's chest, knocking him backwards. Crossbones stared at his disabled gauntlet for a second, while Bucky scrambled to his feet and shakily wiped some of the blood from his mouth.

"You ain't much of a superhero, little girl… but you do make a super _annoyance_ ," Crossbones muttered, glaring at Solace. Bucky eyed him suspiciously, ready to move if his opponent's words heralded another attack against her.

Solace was panting heavily, her jaw set hard as her left hand hovered uncertainly over her wound. Bucky couldn't help but stare at her for a moment, furious that she had been injured and he could do nothing to help her. But as he gazed at her, he thought he saw a faint glimmer of light around her hand again. He tensed when he saw fresh blood trickle from her bullet wound, but the sound of Crossbones getting to his feet distracted him from figuring out what she was doing.

Bucky raised his fists as Crossbones glared at him and prepared to attack once again… but from behind him, he heard Solace gasp in pain, followed immediately by something flying past, too small and fast for his eye to follow. Something sounded like it impacted against Crossbones's armor, and the man screamed in pain, collapsing to one knee.

Shocked, Bucky turned to see Solace had gotten to her feet. She was trembling and she looked like she had tears in her eyes, but her expression was firm, resolute. Her left hand was raised in the air before her, her fingers bloodied and the air shimmering with her power. Perfect, round, crimson drops of blood hovered over her hand, orbiting one another strangely. Bucky had never seen anything like it in his life.

" _That_ was yours," she hissed, glaring at the injured Crossbones.

Bucky's eyes went back to the larger man, scanning him quickly for what happened. It took him a moment before he noticed what it was: a small bullet hole in the side of Crossbones's shin armor.

 _A bullet… but where—?_

Of course. Bucky's eyes widened when he realized what had happened. Solace must have used her power to extract the bullet she'd been shot with, then literally _threw it_ at Crossbones, with all the effectiveness of the original gunshot.

"Solace…" For a moment, he didn't know what to think. He was shocked and impressed and intimidated and in love with her all at the same time.

At her name, she looked at him uncertainly, her face still drawn with pain. She dropped her hand to her side, and the blood droplets fell to the ground at her feet, leaving dark spots in the dirt. Despite all that she had done to help him in this fight, he could tell Solace was pensive. She didn't know how to respond to him anymore.

Bucky took a deep breath as he kept his eye on their opponent, trying to keep a neutral tone while still expressing his concern. "Are you all right?"

"I'll… be fine," she said, looking away. "Take him out. I'll protect you while I try to get to Alec."

"Understood."

This wasn't the time for sentiment, and Bucky knew that, but regardless, he still felt hurt watching her limp off, without even a second glance.

Crossbones struggled to his feet, catching his second wind and determined not to let Solace escape. He forced himself to start running in her direction, despite his leg injury, but despite his best efforts, he could not reach her before the air gleamed again and she flicked her wrist towards him violently. He was hurled backwards, as if punched by a massive fist. But Crossbones didn't hit the ground; instead, Bucky was there to meet him, punching him from behind and sending him sprawling head over heels across the dirt. The larger man grunted as he forced himself back up, and threw a punch of his own in response. But the Winter Soldier could tell Crossbones was tiring. He had taken a lot of damage, far more than any normal man could have endured, and he'd been hit with a number of bullets on top of that. Even if they were just grazing shots, they were taking their toll; Bucky found it easier to block and counter Crossbones's punches. The lucky ones Crossbones was able to throw were seamlessly deflected by little shields that Solace tossed his way.

Bucky could see, out of the corner of his eye, Solace making her way to the armored truck. Alec ran out from where he had been hiding, giving her a big hug and studying her wound with concern. She seemed to whisper words of comfort in the boy's ear, before giving his head a kiss and allowing him to help her walk. That was fine. They needed to escape, and Bucky could focus on—

Crossbones swung his fist again, and the Winter Soldier ducked under it easily; however, the next move surprised him, in that Crossbones spun and lashed out with a kick immediately after. Bucky raised his arms to block the attack, but the move still sent him stumbling backwards. He heard the sound of a blade being unsheathed, and he only had a second to notice one now jutting out of Crossbones's remaining gauntlet before the man charged him. The blade came straight at his face, and Bucky had to use both hands to grab Crossbones's arm before it stabbed him in the eye.

"I want her to watch you _die_ ," Crossbones snarled, struggling to bring the blade closer. "You think she'd cry if you did?"

Bucky didn't answer, instead concentrating on trying to disable his enemy's gauntlet just like the other one. But Crossbones wasn't about to let that happen. With his free fist, he threw a quick jab at the side of Bucky's head, making him stagger. The blade lashed forward and he managed to catch it on his cybernetic arm, but Crossbones immediately dropped into a sweeping kick that knocked Bucky's feet out from under him. The blade came straight at him again, and although Bucky was able to grab his opponent's wrist just in time, he couldn't stop Crossbones's forward momentum enough. The blade missed his face, but instead cut into the side of his neck before it plunged into the ground. He gritted his teeth and tried not to scream.

"Bucky!" Solace gasped, raising her hands to try and help him. But before she could do anything, Crossbones reached up with his other hand and gripped the side of Bucky's head, pushing him closer to the blade at his neck. It cut just a little deeper, and this time Bucky couldn't hold back the cry of pain that escaped him.

"Put your hands down, little girl, or I'll cut his damn throat," Crossbones said. She stared at him, terrified, and slowly lowered her hands again. "That's right. You're not winning this fight. You know you couldn't let anyone die… even this piece of shit. Now tell that brat to get in the truck and start it. He and I are leaving."

Bucky felt the blade push into his neck if he tried to move or do anything, so he forced himself to stop struggling. One wrong move, and the blade would cut open important veins and arteries in his neck, killing him easily. "Don't listen to him," he called out, thinking of Solace's face for strength. "You can't—"

"Shut your mouth!" Crossbones snarled, and Bucky nearly choked on a gasp of agony, feeling the blade sink deeper. He could feel the rush of warm blood running down his neck, in complete contrast to the cold steel threatening to end his life, and he tried not to breathe harder in a panic. He didn't dare show weakness, not for Solace, not for Alec; at least he'd die with a brave face. "Now where's that damn kid? Tell him—"

A shot rang out, and Bucky could actually see it tear a chunk out of the side of Crossbones's helmet. The larger man flinched and let go of Bucky's head, shifting his position to look at where the shot had come from.

"Let… him… go."

This time… Bucky was startled to hear Alec's voice, clear and surprisingly calm.

Bucky was able to twist away from the blade next to him enough so he could turn his head. Several yards away, holding the pistol that Bucky had dropped earlier, and that Crossbones had used to shoot Solace… was Alec. He stood in a surprisingly-proper shooting stance, both hands holding the gun steady. His eyes were wide, but his mouth was set in a firm line.

Crossbones seemed nearly as surprised as Bucky was. "What the hell do you think you're doing, kid?" he asked, trying to sound dismissive.

"I told you to let him go," Alec repeated. There was a hint of fear in his voice, but it was nothing compared to the strength he now seemed to have acquired.

"Or… what? You'll shoot me? Come on." Crossbones chuckled, but Bucky could feel his opponent tense. He was nervous. "You know you can't shoot that gun straight. I trained you plenty, but you know you suck. You're scared of guns, remember? Besides… you think you can actually kill someone?"

Alec hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Bucky saw the gun waver just a little bit… before suddenly, a pair of hands reached around from behind Alec and held the gun steady. It was Solace.

"He'll hit you. I'll make sure of it," she replied sternly. She appeared to be holding the boy protectively, but Bucky could tell she was only there to support him. Alec was the one still in charge of the weapon.

Crossbones stared, and this time, Bucky could really feel his opponent's uncertainty. He gave an uneasy laugh. "Are you crazy? Do you realize what you're saying?" he asked. "You're gonna let a kid kill me? You really want that kind of blood on your hands, little girl?"

Solace glared at him, the rage in her eyes silencing her enemy. "You dare speak of blood on my hands? When you did this to him?" she shouted. "You _murdered_ his father! You kidnapped him and forced him to help you terrorize the city!" She glanced down at Alec for a moment, and the boy looked up at her; he nodded resolutely. She nodded back. "If Alec decides to pull that trigger… I would call it justice."

Alec took a deep breath and angled the gun back up to point straight at Crossbones's head. "I won't say it again," he said. "Let him _go_."

Stunned, Crossbones stared at the pair for a few moments, and then looked back down at the Winter Soldier. Bucky could see the struggle in his eyes, torn between his desire to kill his enemies and win… and his realization that the threat Alec and Solace posed was real. Reluctantly, Crossbones yanked his gauntlet free from the ground, retracting the blood-stained blade, and shifted off of Bucky. He held his hands up to show he wasn't going to make any unexpected moves as he stepped away, slowly.

Alec kept the gun trained on Crossbones, while Bucky sat up and clutched the side of his neck in agony. Blood trickled through his fingers, and he squeezed hard to try and put pressure on the wound. He looked at Solace, but she was focused entirely on Crossbones, making sure he didn't try anything.

"What now, kid?" Crossbones asked, still glaring at the two. "Still going to kill me?"

For a second, it looked like the suggestion had some merit… but Alec finally lowered the pistol and stared coldly at his kidnapper. "No," he said. "I'm not going to be like you. Get out of here. I never, ever want to see you again."

Crossbones visibly sagged at the command. He gave each of his opponents a hateful look before backing away and chuckling. "Fine, kid. Fine. I don't promise anything… but I'll leave," he muttered. "What a shame, though. You had so much _potential_. I thought you were gonna be the one. The first of a band of new protégés—Crossbones's Junior Bones!"

Solace stared at him, dumbfounded; she looked like she was caught between laughing at the absurdity of his statement, and gasping at the realization that he wasn't kidding. " _Really_? Are you serious?" she asked. "Did you get hit in the head right when you decided you wanted to be a Boy Scout leader?"

"Laugh all you like, little girl," he spat. "But law enforcement's reluctant to shoot kids. It'd be the perfect defense against them and all the other bleeding hearts like _you_. And when these kids grow up? They'd be trained to be the greatest fighters in the world, cause they'd learn everything from yours truly. We'd be the most feared and successful mercenaries in the world, and strong enough to wipe goody two-shoed little shits like you off the map."

"You think anyone's going to take you seriously with a name like that?" Solace asked, disgusted. "Besides… kidnapping kids isn't going to work. Why would they listen to you? What made you think Alec would ever want to respect someone who murdered his dad?"

"If only you knew, little girl. You wouldn't be sassing me." Crossbones shot Alec a sneer, but the boy simply responded by gripping the gun even tighter. "You can make _anyone_ do what you want, with the right leverage. Too bad pretty boy over there had to screw things up. Ironically."

Solace glanced in Bucky's direction, a baffled expression on her face. Bucky shrugged in response; he didn't know what Crossbones was referring to, either. Perhaps the incident with the stolen trailer truck…?

"Sorry you weren't up to snuff, kid," Crossbones concluded, slowly limping away towards one of the exits to the construction site. "Another time, maybe." The threat was casual, but Alec gritted his teeth at the thought, and Solace held him just a little tighter against her.

"But you two?" Crossbones looked straight at Solace, before his eyes darted back to Bucky one last time. "…You're on my list. I'll finish what I started here, one way or another."

There was no response. No one would give him the satisfaction. Instead, Bucky watched Crossbones stalk away, disappearing into the night as sirens wailed in the distance. A part of him was furious, wanting desperately to pursue his weakened opponent and finish him off for good. But even the Winter Soldier realized that it wasn't his call to make.

He looked over at Alec and Solace again, just in time to see the pistol fall from Alec's hands and clatter to the ground. The boy covered his face and began to sob, as Solace put her arms around him and hugged him close. Bucky got to his feet and limped slowly in their direction, unsure what to do. The only thing he'd planned for was to save Alec… not how to help him cope afterwards.

"W-W-Why couldn't I do it…?" Alec cried, turning to bury his face in Solace's chest and wrap his arms around her tight. She stroked his hair and back gently, humming softly in his ear. "Why couldn't I…? I-I mean, you were right. H-He killed Dad, and he… he…"

Solace kissed his forehead and shook her head. "Shh… sweetie, you didn't do anything wrong," she whispered. "It's brave to spare a life, even if killing them is justified. You're a good person… not like him. That's why you couldn't do it."

Bucky stopped just a few feet from the two, and finally Solace looked up at him. Their eyes met, and for a moment, everything went blank. He was exhausted and in pain and just wanted her so much right now, but it felt like she was somehow miles away, despite being right there in front of him.

The soldier tugged at the back of his mind, firmly reminding him of the sirens that seemed to get closer and closer. Someone must have called police, probably after hearing all the gunshots.

"Make… sure Alec gets taken care of," Bucky finally managed to say, making the boy turn to look at him. "You too, Solace. You're hurt."

Solace's eyes softened, just a little, while Alec gazed up at Bucky with a sense of awe and curiosity. "What about you?" he asked.

Bucky shook his head numbly and turned away, walking towards the entrance to the construction site. The Winter Soldier's mission was complete; nothing else really mattered.

"…Thank you for helping Solace." Alec's voice was low, full of confusion, but still sincere and grateful. He certainly recognized Bucky from yesterday, but maybe he thought the Winter Soldier was another kind of superhero, there to help Solace when she needed it.

At that, Bucky couldn't help but laugh, turning and staring at Alec with a sense of admiration. "She doesn't need my help," he replied, managing to smile. "She has you."

Solace bit her lip, finally making as if to step forward. "Bucky…"

But the sirens were steadily approaching, and Bucky had to push back his weakness. "Take care of yourself, kitten," he whispered, turning away and forcing himself not to look at her. The sadness in her eyes was not the last image he wanted to remember. Not when he had to say goodbye.

Everything hurt, inside and out, but the Winter Soldier found the strength to push himself into a run. He wasn't even really aware of where he was running; only that he forced himself to stick to the loneliest side streets and the darkest alleys. He knew he was losing a lot of blood and weakening fast, but he had no other recourse but to try and get back to his apartment where it would be safe.

Bucky didn't stop until he felt his knee smash into something hard, and he collapsed to the sidewalk in pain. He realized he'd run into a bench, and it took him a moment before he recognized where he was. His legs had somehow carried him to the bus stop that he and Solace normally waited at in the morning.

 _Ironic. Pathetic. This is how you kill the Winter Soldier, I guess._

Bucky stared at the streetlight above him, dizzy and light-headed, aware he was bleeding badly but unable to find the strength to do anything. Maybe it didn't even matter anymore. He closed his eyes, forcing the tears back and succumbing to his exhaustion.

"Миссия… выполнена." (1)

* * *

 _Translations:_

(1) Миссия… выполнена. _[Missi-ya… vipolnena.] – "Mission… accomplished."_

* * *

 _A long chapter, with a lot of bombshells! More to come in the next chapter, though; we're not quite done with the story yet! After all, just where did Solace get all those interesting abilities~?_

 _Crossbones is fun, and I admittedly wish they did more with him in the movies. I know I made his "plan" a little comical, but that was intentional; I took a lot of inspiration from comic book story plots, and we know how silly some comic book arcs can be! I wanted to invoke a bit of that while also keeping the setting in the MCU, which is more "real-world." This inspiration will continue in the future. :)_

 _Once again, thank you all so much for your continued support! The amount of faves and follows is so flattering, and all the reviews really mean a lot to me! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! ^^_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9**_

Sleep didn't come easily for Bucky, even injured and tired as he was. Blurry visions danced in and out of focus, and in between the throbbing of his pulse in his ears, he thought he could hear someone calling his name. Sometimes he thought he heard Solace, her beautiful voice beckoning him forward, assuring him everything would be ok if he just held on, a little longer. Other times, he thought he heard Steve's voice again, begging him to remember anything, everything.

The memories blurred together, and Bucky couldn't differentiate between anything clearly anymore. He would think of Alec and instead remember young Steve back in grade school, crying because a bully pushed him down and took his toy; Bucky only knew he had fought just as hard for both little boys. He thought about Solace and imagined that she had somehow been a part of his life in the 40s; she was there to bid him goodbye before he was shipped off to Europe for the war, and he tried to tell her he'd never come back. But she pulled him into a loving kiss to silence his protests, and whispered in his ear that he had to come back. She couldn't bear it without him.

 _But I'm sorry, beautiful girl—I'm going to fall off a damn train, and I'll be dead to you and me and everyone else except HYDRA. Just forget about me because I'm not worth this—_

Bucky heard himself apologizing even as the visions melted away, and he drifted into nothingness once more.

When he opened his eyes again, he squinted against the bright sunlight peeking in through the nearby window blinds. It was probably the first time in years that he woke up and it wasn't 5 a.m. _Waking up_ was far too pleasant a term, though—when he opened his eyes, he immediately wished he hadn't. The scent of copper hung thick in the air, and that, coupled with the pain that gripped every muscle and fiber of his being, made his whole body jerk upwards as he gasped. He didn't throw up, but his stomach reacted violently to the stress and agony he'd put himself through, forcing him to gag and cough hard until his eyes watered. He swallowed back the blood that stung his mouth and forced himself to breathe, slowly, until his body relaxed again.

Once everything felt ok again, at least for the time being, Bucky sniffed back his tears and looked down at himself. He realized he was somehow in his own bedroom, lying on top of his bed despite the fact he had no idea how he had gotten there. Dark brown spots of blood dotted the once-white sheets, likely from his injuries. More alarming, however, was the fact that his uniform had been partially removed; he was still wearing his pants, but someone had taken the time to unbuckle and take off the upper part of his clothing, as well as his boots. There were dark purple bruises all over his torso, and the few lacerations and cuts he'd sustained had been treated with what smelled like antibiotic medication. With a shaky hand, Bucky reached up and felt the bandages also wrapped carefully around the cut on his neck.

He couldn't decide if he was distressed or not. The soldier was immediately on guard, but Bucky was too exhausted to care. He leaned his head back against the pillows with a moan, thirsty and in pain and desperately confused.

Bucky didn't know how much time passed—probably only an hour or so, though it felt like much longer, wavering between consciousness and unconsciousness—but he perked up when he heard the front door of his apartment open and close. He could hear light footsteps, things banging and bumping around. His body tensed, and despite the agony that ripped through him, he forced himself to get out of bed and stagger across the room, to the door. He pressed his back against the wall and lifted his left arm, ready to attack whoever might come through the door.

A few minutes passed before the footsteps finally crossed over to his bedroom door. The handle turned and the door swung open; Bucky flinched as the door bumped into the wall beside him, and he swung his fist without thinking. Though there was no pain, his cybernetic hand felt like it slammed into a solid wall.

Bucky stared wide-eyed, through the shimmering light, to see Solace, looking just as shocked as him.

Her hands were raised before her, holding the force field steady until he finally pulled back his fist; she let her hands drop and shook her head. "How did I get the feeling that was probably going to happen?" she sighed. "Get back in bed."

"Solace?" Bucky's initial surprise over seeing her, as well as his initial panic over how he had come close to hurting her, quickly dissipated. Instead, he was bewildered. "How… How did you—?"

Solace pointed sternly at the bed, and for some reason he felt compelled to obey, wearily lying back down. "One thing at a time," she scolded, gently. She came to his side and inspected his injuries again, seeming worried that he might have torn them open when he tried to attack her.

Bucky studied her while she was tending to him. She was wearing a clean set of clothing—simple jeans and a purple t-shirt, which was actually uncharacteristic of her—and appeared to have taken a shower at some point; the blood from her injuries was gone, and she smelled faintly like floral body wash. He could still see the hint of dark bruises on her face and a blood clot at the corner of her mouth. Despite himself, he reached up to touch her lip with his thumb; she jumped in surprise and blushed.

"How are you feeling?" Solace asked, her eyes lowering as she peered under a square of gauze on his chest. She still seemed to have a touch of apprehension about her, but his affection wasn't being rejected, so that was a good sign.

"Terrible, but I'll live," he replied. "Don't worry about me."

Solace's eyes met his, and only then did he realize just how exhausted and bloodshot she looked. She must not have gotten any sleep the night before. "How can you say that…?" she asked. "I was _incredibly_ worried about you... I felt so horrible not following you when you left the construction site. Alec had to push me into looking for you before the police showed up."

Bucky looked away, hurt at the explanation. "You didn't _want_ to come after me…?" he asked.

"I… I was scared. A part of me wanted to, but… but seeing you during that fight… it scared me. I thought I knew you, and then all of a sudden you show up and you're the freaking _Winter Soldier_. The person involved in those attacks in Washington, D.C. The guy who almost _killed_ Captain America. Of all the things I imagined about you, that wasn't… one of them. Is it wrong of me to be concerned…?"

Bucky shook his head, but his mind was already drifting elsewhere. It wasn't wrong of her to be afraid of the Winter Soldier, he supposed, but maybe he hoped Solace could have seen past that. That she could have seen Bucky under the mask of the soldier, and remembered everything they had shared together. He'd done his best to prove he was on her side in the fight, and had been there to help her. And, if the roles had been reversed, Bucky wouldn't have hesitated to chase after Solace.

"You shouldn't have gone after me," he said, bitterly.

"And let you _die_?"

"Yes." Bucky glared at her, his fists clenching, feeling incredibly hurt and betrayed. He loved her so much, but it felt like she didn't feel the same way. Maybe he was the one who was wrong, to trust her completely and presume she would do the same for him. "I did all this for _you_. I'm not supposed to care, they didn't program me to care, and yet… I did, like an idiot. The world doesn't need me, and neither do you."

Solace's hand shot up to cover her mouth, but he could still see it tremble behind her fingers. Her voice came out in a small whimper. "Bucky…"

"I told myself not to expect anything back," he continued, allowing the soldier to bristle and lash out defensively at her. The only threat left before him. The only thing that hurt him more than his own physical injuries. "But realizing you'd _rather_ turn a blind eye to all this? That hurts, Solace. Were you planning on calling me in the morning and pretending like nothing happened? Do you think we could carry on, conveniently ignoring this aspect of our lives? Maybe if we never talk about it again, things will be ok?"

"T-That's not… I didn't…" Tears filled her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. Her body shuddered as if he'd actually punched her. "Bucky, I _came after you_! You say those things as if I didn't!"

"You didn't _want_ to."

"But I _did_!" Solace's voice was high-pitched, frantic by now, and her head bowed to hide her face as she cried into her hands. "I-I'm sorry I was afraid… I really am…! I should never have hesitated. I know that now. Yes, you're the Winter Soldier, but… you're also my _Bucky_."

He flinched a little at the sentiment, not wanting it, but feeling it stab through his heart nonetheless. The soldier instinctively tensed up, gritting his teeth, trying to shield him, to protect him from this weak, contemptible thing called _affection_ , but it didn't work. Bucky closed his eyes and tried hard not to look at her, but her words still cut through him like a knife.

"I-I ran down what felt like every street in the city looking for you," Solace tried to explain, her voice thick and nasally through her tears. "I was… I was absolutely terrified I was going to find you dead in some alley, and then I'd have to live with the realization that I failed you…" She sniffed hard and grabbed the bloodstained sheets under her, attempting to wipe her eyes. "I didn't know where you lived, but I looked everywhere around this area, knowing you had to be somewhere. And then… and then when I found you at the bus stop… God, I thought you were actually dead…"

Her voice was too much, and Bucky knew it. He tried to ignore her sobs, but he felt his eyes watering too. "Solace…"

"There was blood all over the sidewalk… It looked like you should have died from that alone. I remember just… running to you and holding you tight and crying so much," Solace whispered. Her red, puffy eyes were distant, looking at him and yet past him. "I kept saying I was sorry, please don't leave me, you have to come back. I couldn't bear it without you…" The words echoed with familiarity, and Bucky gave a start. He remembered them from his dreams, his visions. He had heard her after all.

"Then you actually… started talking to me." Solace's tears finally relented as she recalled this, the memory seeming to calm her. "You were obviously still out of it, but... you were alive, and you were responsive. I started talking to you, trying to keep you awake. I did everything I could to keep you focused on me and listening to what I said. Somehow you were able to get up—thank God for that; I doubt I could have carried you anywhere—and I helped you walk to your apartment. I asked you for your key, you told me where it was, I let us in, and that's how we got here."

"I really don't remember doing any of that," Bucky admitted. But he knew it obviously had to be true; how else would they be here now?

Solace nodded, unsurprised. "I stayed up with you all night," she continued. Her eyes drifted down to his body, and he could see her face redden just a little as she took in the sight. She idly ran her fingers across a small cut on his side she hadn't covered in gauze, and Bucky tried not to shiver at the sensation. "I treated all the wounds I could on you, though the most important one was obviously that one on your neck. For a while, I was seriously considering taking you to a hospital regardless of the consequences… But you were actually healing really well. I could practically see you getting better with every hour that went by. I don't even think you broke anything."

He finally smiled, just a little, at the awe in her voice; he supposed it _was_ amazing that he somehow had been able to recover overnight from getting the crap beat out of him. Accelerated super soldier healing did have its perks, he had to admit. "I told you not to worry about me," he reminded. "But what about you? You were hurt too, right?" Bucky's eyes drifted to her right shoulder, where she'd been shot, but he couldn't tell whether she'd bandaged the wound or not.

Solace blinked at the question, before shaking her head. "Don't worry about me, either," she replied, quietly. "I'm honestly ok. Just sore."

"All right. I'm glad." Bucky leaned back against his pillows and studied the woman sitting across from him, her fingers still lightly on his stomach. He could tell her eyes were trying to analyze his injuries, but kept getting drawn to his left shoulder. It was hard to ignore the angry, raised scar tissue around where his cybernetic arm connected to his body. He could only imagine how surprised she must have been when she had torn off his clothing, desperate to treat his injuries, and realized he really did have a metal arm. Sometimes, even now, Bucky found it hard to believe himself.

"Did it hurt?" she asked softly, leaning in closer to him. Her hand brushed up his body, careful to avoid his wounds, and brushed against the metal around his shoulder. Even when she did it deliberately, he could see her flinch when she felt it under her fingertips. "Getting this, I mean."

Bucky swallowed, watching Solace's face as she studied it. At first, he was worried he would see the fear in her eyes that he had seen at the construction site. That she was scared of him, even if she tried her best not to be. But he could tell the pensiveness in her expression was less because she was afraid… and more because she was sad. She was imagining how he must have lost his arm, and the very thought hurt her. "I don't really remember," he replied, and for a moment all he saw was Steve's horrified face disappearing into the sky, his arm extended helplessly as Bucky fell beyond reach. "I… do remember falling into a valley, into an icy river. It hurt so much, but only for a split second. Next thing I knew, I was in a lab, and I already had… this."

Solace frowned, obviously disturbed at the notion that someone had grabbed him when he was unconscious and _replaced his entire arm_ with a robotic one. "That's… horrible," she whispered. "Who would even…" But before Bucky could reply, she shook her head and brushed her fingertips down the entire length of his metal arm. "…It doesn't matter. It's just like a prosthetic. People get those sometimes. I don't mind it."

Bucky smiled a little, at her attempts to reassure him. He never thought of the arm as a disability or anything. His cybernetic was hardly a mere prosthesis, after all—it provided him with strength and abilities no ordinary human could do on their own. It was more like an irremovable dog collar, forever marking him as Soviet made, HYDRA property, a prisoner-of-war turned weapon of the enemy.

"I'm glad it doesn't scare you," he replied softly. "You're too sweet to me."

Her face fell just a little. "No I'm not," she whispered. She bit her lip and shook her head. "Bucky… I'm so sorry."

He softened at the statement, leaning over to press a kiss against her hair. "Why, kitten?"

"Because I hurt you." She reached up and stroked the side of his face with her hand, pulling him closer to her. "It's easy for me to say I accept you now, but… I wish I'd done the same last night. I didn't know how to respond when you showed up in the middle of that fight, and I hurt your feelings. I should have treated you like the most important person in the world to me… because you are. You should be."

"Don't say that," Bucky sighed. Now that his previous anger had faded, he was able to sympathize with Solace's actions, even understand why she acted the way she had. "Your focus was on Alec and on the fight. I shouldn't expect you to prioritize me over that. And after seeing the Winter Soldier, I don't blame you for being scared, and thinking maybe an enemy had showed up."

Solace shook her head fiercely, pressing her cheek against his. He got the feeling that she enjoyed feeling his rough stubble against the softness of her skin. "I guess not, but… I should have trusted you," she concluded. "Maybe my reasons for behaving the way I did were logical, but I still hurt you, and that's not something I want to just… gloss over." She leaned back enough so she could study his face. Her eyes were sad, yet warm with emotion. "I was afraid and I made the wrong decision to not immediately follow you, to not make sure you were ok, even though you were injured. I'm sorry."

Bucky took a deep breath and touched her face; this time, it was with his right hand, so he could feel her cheek under his thumb when he stroked it. "I forgive you," he said softly, his heart aching with affection. "I'm just… glad you did find me in the end. I only fight this hard for you, you know."

She smiled, her eyes brimming with happy tears, and she turned her face to kiss his palm lovingly. He felt himself melt under her emotion, and all his pain suddenly seemed far away.

"But… I'm sorry too, Solace," he continued, pulling her against him in a hug. She shifted her weight carefully so she wouldn't press against his wounds, and every soft brush of her body against him made his skin tingle. "I shouldn't have… been so harsh with you. I shouldn't have expected you to just accept me being this… assassin, the Winter Soldier, without even batting an eye. I was just frustrated and lonely and… well, I guess I was scared too. It's the first time I've ever fought and there was no one to report to. No one was there to tell me what to do."

"It's ok," she assured. "It was enough that you chose to help. You didn't know I was involved, you didn't have anyone ordering you to risk your life, and yet… there you were. I guess you just wanted to… help Alec?"

"I did. But it was because of you. I couldn't stand seeing you so upset over him." He stroked her back and felt her relax against his body. "How is he, anyway?"

"Mm, he's just fine," she murmured, sleepily. "Once I was confident you'd be all right, I left early this morning and headed back to my place. Took a shower, changed clothes, and then called Alec at the hospital. He stayed at the construction site after we left, and the police found him. They took him to the hospital to recover. They have yet to interview him thoroughly—they'll probably do that sometime today—but he said he was going tell them some 'mysterious' masked superheroes helped fight off Crossbones and saved him."

Bucky smiled slightly. "Smart kid."

"He really is," Solace said, voice full of admiration. "I told him I'd visit as soon as I got the chance. He said to tell you to get well soon."

"That's sweet of him."

"After that, I picked up some groceries and took the long way back to your apartment. I did catch a glimpse of the bus stop, though—the police must think someone got murdered there. They're really investigating that bloodstain."

"I bet." Bucky wasn't really worried they'd find him just from a blood sample, but it was definitely risky for him to be so close to such evidence. "I didn't… bleed on the way here, did I?"

Solace shook her head. "No, I wrapped your wound before we started moving. I checked around the complex on the way back up here, but I didn't see any obvious bloodstains. Still, those forensic units are pretty smart. You might… not want to stay here for much longer."

"I know. I know."

Bucky hated thinking about it. He knew Solace was probably thinking it too, but the Winter Soldier would probably have to leave the area in order to stay ahead of authorities. He had been unbelievably lucky so far, but it was just a matter of time before he was hunted down.

"Don't worry about it right now. You need to rest," she said, with a cute yawn. Her body sagged heavily against him, and he realized she was falling asleep.

With a smile, Bucky pushed her off him and gently laid her on the bed, away from the bloodstained sheets under him. "You do, too," he chided. "Go to sleep."

Solace didn't respond; she probably was out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Bucky sighed softly and stared at his ceiling again, the familiar grooves and patterns soothing in their own way to him. For the last few months, he remembered waking up to this ceiling every morning, always alone, always living from one day to the next. But now, he wasn't alone; not anymore. It felt nice having Solace next to him in that moment, even if it was out of necessity and not intimacy. Under normal circumstances, Bucky would have felt awkward about it, even ashamed at the impropriety of it all. But now…? Well, there was something about fighting alongside someone that made all of that seem insignificant.

Bucky rolled over on his left side to place a gentle kiss on Solace's cheek, smiling affectionately at her. "Thanks for coming after me, beautiful girl," he whispered. His heart no longer ached in pain. It could only swell with love, perhaps all the more so now that he had nothing left to hide from her.

 _Even at my worst, she's still smiling at me._

* * *

 _It's easy to accept one another when you both have something to hide._

 _More answers lie ahead once they get some of their energy back. :) After all, the secret to a good relationship is communication!_

 _Thanks for reading, as always! Please review with your thoughts, and I'll be back again next week with another update~_


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Notes: An especially long chapter this time! Admittedly I don't know if it's my best chapter; it's mostly a lot of dialogue and exposition, and while I'm content with how it turned out, I feel like in the future I'll try to improve my writing by avoiding such a large block of exposition in my stories. As it stands, I feel like it makes sense for Solace and Bucky to engage in, so I hope you all enjoy the long read. 3_

 _ **Chapter 10**_

Despite what he'd said to Solace, Bucky was still in a lot of pain. His body wanted to sleep, but he knew time was always precious, always a commodity, so he bit back a groan and forced himself to get up.

The bedsheets on his side of the bed were ruined from all the blood soaked into them, so he ripped them off the bed and out from under Solace's sleeping form. Thankfully, only a few tiny drops of blood had soaked through to the fitted sheet underneath. He grabbed the bloody pillow from his side and took that away too, before limping over to the linen closet in the hallway to replace them. He only had one set of spare sheets and one extra pillow, but they would do. He returned to the bedroom and tossed the fresh sheets over Solace.

Once she was taken care of, Bucky shifted his attention to his own situation. He first made sure to satisfy the soldier and take a look around the apartment. Solace appeared to have shut and locked the front door securely, but the blinds had been opened slightly in the kitchen, probably for light. He took the time to close and check all the windows in the apartment; only then could he finally relax.

His next objective was to cross over to the sink, grab a clean glass, and fill it to the brim with water. He forced himself not to gulp it too fast as he drank, but he went through two whole glasses before he finally felt like his throat wasn't being grated by sandpaper. He coughed a little, relieved, and took a few moments to collect his strength. At times like these, Bucky realized he really was just a human being; he'd be more grateful for the reminder if it didn't _hurt_ so much.

When he'd gathered himself again, he decided to be nosy and investigate the various items Solace had left on the nearby dining room table. Two sacks of groceries sat on top, and Bucky took a peek inside to find various food items. Did she mean to cook him dinner tonight, too? Why in the world was she always spoiling him…?

 _She really does care… doesn't she? I should never have doubted her._

Next to the sacks of groceries was a backpack, partially unzipped and open to view. Bucky took a quick glance and determined it was full of Solace's clothing and other personal belongings, so he left it alone. The only other foreign thing on the table appeared to be a cardboard tube with plastic caps on either end. He popped open one end and peered inside; there appeared to be some kind of poster or similar document inside, rolled up neatly. Bucky replaced the lid and set the poster tube back where he found it, not wanting to go so far as to take it out and look at it. He would have to ask Solace about it later.

After putting the groceries away, Bucky headed to the bathroom and started a hot shower. The water was painful on his still-healing wounds, but it felt unbelievably refreshing to finally wash all the blood and sweat and grime off him, leaving the remnants of that battle behind at last. He was careful not to aggravate any of his injuries and cause them to bleed again. It was a miracle he was even conscious this soon after the fight; a normal man would have probably been out for days trying to recover from the blood loss.

On his way out of the bathroom, Bucky stopped to look in the mirror again, and examined the wound on the side of his neck with distaste. It looked as deep as it felt, and as he touched it, gingerly, he came away with blood on his fingertips. His face was badly bruised and covered in half-healed cuts, and the now-exposed wounds all over his torso looked like they were in desperate need of fresh bandaging.

After pulling on a fresh pair of pants, Bucky wandered back into the bedroom and gazed at Solace's sleeping form with a conflicted expression. He didn't want to think about it, and he had a feeling she was quietly aware of it too, but… he knew he'd have to leave soon. If it were just him, Bucky might have tried to leave as soon as he regained consciousness, but now… with Solace in the picture, he was much more reluctant. Before last night, Bucky's greatest fear was that she'd discover his secret and she'd run away to call authorities in terror. But that was no longer his concern; she'd proven she could be trusted with his secret, for she had one of her own. Now, he was just worried police would follow the trail of the Winter Soldier to him—and to her. He didn't know if he could forgive himself if Solace was caught up in his crimes.

Still… having to leave her just wasn't fair. He loved her so much. Why couldn't that be enough…?

As Bucky began to assess his exit strategy, a ringtone pierced the silence of the room, making him jump. Solace gave a loud, unhappy groan and rolled over in bed, pulling her cell phone from her pocket and putting it to her ear. "What…?" she asked. "…Yes, I'm fine, Jasc. …No, I'm not hurt. Seriously. …Ok, I got a few scratches and bruises. …No, you don't need to come down. It's going to be a mess down here with police anyway. …I'm at my boyfriend's. …Yes, he knows. It's fine. …Ugh, ok, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. …I'll call you later, I promise. …All right. …Bye."

Bucky eyed her curiously as she threw the phone on the nightstand and rubbed her eyes. "Your friend…?" he guessed. He hadn't caught all of the conversation, but it seemed as if this Jasc was aware of what Solace had been through.

"Mm… yeah. He… knows about my abilities. He _is_ my best friend after all," she mumbled, still sounding exhausted. "I told him I'd been dealing with a bad guy here in Philadelphia… I guess he must have seen the news and put two and two together. He's… upset."

"I would be too. Does he know about me?"

"No. He thinks you're just a normal guy. I'll try to keep it that way, if only so Jasc doesn't freak out over you being the Winter Soldier." Solace shot Bucky a reassuring, if somewhat sleepy smile, and sat up in bed. Her eyes took him in, making him shift awkwardly.

"You ok?" she asked, and he couldn't tell if his unhappiness was obvious, or if she was just asking about his injuries.

Bucky shrugged—and winced, as the movement tugged at the wound in his neck. "I'm all right," he said, with a sigh. "Think you could bandage me again, though? I don't want to bleed everywhere."

"Hm… ok. But only if you play a game with me." Solace sounded a little mischievous, and Bucky immediately was suspicious.

"A game of what?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes at her.

Solace just giggled as she got out of bed and retrieved the first aid kit from where she must have left it on the floor earlier. She opened it and dug through the supplies inside. "Um… well, I'm sure you still have lots of questions about me… and I know I'd like to learn a little more about you," she explained. "So we'll play Truth or Dare."

"Hmm… all right." Bucky thought the suggestion was silly, but he found it even sillier that he recognized the game. Some things never changed, it seemed. Solace seemed enthusiastic about it, however, and she _did_ have a point. There were still a lot of questions he wanted to ask her. "If… that's what you want to do."

"It is," Solace exclaimed, with a satisfied grin. She scooted closer to him on the bed so she could begin working on treating his wounds, by pressing a large sheet of gauze to his neck. Bucky winced at the feeling. "So… what do you want to do first? Truth or dare?"

He tried hard not to snicker. "Um… truth, I guess?"

"Ok." Solace pulled away the gauze and studied Bucky's wound as she thought. "Um… well, hopefully it's not too heavy a question."

"I don't care."

She smiled and leaned over to kiss his shoulder, just past the metal of his cybernetic. "Well… you keep saying you were… commanded and forced to follow orders and all that," she began. "And… I get that the Winter Soldier must have just… done what he—you—were told. I remember after that incident in Washington, D.C., I watched the news reports. There were videos of the attack on the freeway. Footage of the Triskelion and those helicarriers…" Solace looked almost conflicted as she spoke, as if the events bothered her, yet she had to rewrite them in her mind to account for the fact that Bucky had been a part of them. "I… know about HYDRA. At least a little bit."

"You do?" Bucky was surprised. He knew that information had been released to the public, and was all over the internet now. But he hadn't taken Solace as the kind of person who would read about all that just for fun.

Solace nodded, albeit reluctantly. "They're… um… an organization that manipulates the world from the shadows, tries to influence events the way they want for their own ends. Something like that," she murmured. She seemed uncertain, but she actually wasn't all that far off, as far as Bucky was concerned. "But what I've been wondering since last night is… why did you even start working for HYDRA?"

Bucky stared at her, confused. "Why did I… start working for HYDRA?" he repeated.

"Yeah. Why did you choose to work for them, you know?"

The question made him twitch, but even though Solace brushed her thumb over his cheek, trying to be soothing, Bucky didn't even know how to respond. The question didn't make any sense to him. It took him a minute to realize that Solace thought he had been recruited by HYDRA. That he joined them willingly.

"I… didn't have a choice," he said, giving her an uncertain look.

Solace tilted her head, curious and concerned. "Did they… force you to join?" she asked, hesitantly. "Did they threaten you or something?"

Bucky shook his head quickly. He looked down at his hands, and it was like he was seeing them again for the first time in a HYDRA lab, frightened by the metal arm that he did not recognize. "N-No. I… I was captured. They… they were the ones who gave me this…"

 _Where the hell am I…? What happened to me? What is this—_

" _Sergeant Barnes, good morning. I can see you're confused, but just relax. This is your new arm—"_

 _This isn't mine… This isn't mine!_

"T-They… experimented on me…"

 _Not another machine, not another needle, God help me, I can't take anymore of this—_

"And then… they brainwashed me. They tortured me until I couldn't remember anything. Any thoughts, any resistance, it was all met with pain, until my head, it… it didn't know _how_ to remember anymore. It forgot everything so the pain would just… just stop. Last year was…"

" _Bucky?"_

"… _Who the hell is Bucky?"_

The breath caught in his throat, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut until his chest un-tightened. "…It was the first time I heard my name in what seems like… forever."

Bucky was visibly rigid by the time he finished speaking, nearly trembling. He had barely scratched the surface of what he'd been through, but the way his voice cracked when he spoke told Solace enough. Her eyes were wide, and she shifted herself on her knees in order to lean over and hug him. "Baby… no… I didn't… I didn't think…" she began, but not knowing where to go with such an unbearable thought. "I'm so sorry…"

"I know. It's… ok. You didn't realize," Bucky replied, staring blankly at the wall. "It's not… unreasonable to think HYDRA won me over, or even just strong-armed me into joining. Most of their members aren't… forcibly recruited like I was."

She let go of him reluctantly and rested her head against his left shoulder, ignoring whatever discomfort the metal provided. "But they _hurt_ you," she whispered, placing a soft kiss against the cool surface. "They hurt you and that's why you don't remember anything, isn't it…?"

It was an awfully simplistic explanation for the tragedy that was his life, but Bucky nodded anyway. "I'm starting to find bits and pieces," he reminded, though he wasn't sure who needed the reassurance more—her or him. "But… I don't know how long I can hold on to anything. Even now, it feels like… they're still hovering over me, and they'll beat it out of me again if I try to remember. I look at you and I'm so frightened they're going to drag me away, and by the time it stops hurting, I won't remember you either—"

Solace reached up and touched his lips, and Bucky immediately fell silent.

"Shh. Don't panic. I'm right here, ok?"

"R-Right."

The two sat there for several moments, unsure of how to continue the conversation. Solace looked uncomfortable, and Bucky felt guilty for immediately taking things in such a negative, painful direction. "You know," she said, finally speaking again after a long awkward silence, "we don't have to keep talking about this…"

Bucky shook his head quickly. "No, it's… it's really ok. You… deserve to know these things. I'm just… sorry they're such ugly things."

"You can't help that."

He supposed that was true, but Bucky still wished he could spare her the grief he knew she must be feeling. Even if he felt it wasn't necessary, and she shouldn't have to worry, he knew that Solace cared too much not to be affected by his words. He was still terrified of delving into the gruesome details, not just because of the nightmares he'd have later, but because he knew, deep down, it would make Solace cry.

Bucky sighed and leaned over, kissing Solace's cheek. "Is it my turn yet?"

"Your… turn?" She sounded confused, even startled, as if she had been thinking too deeply and he had accidentally interrupted her.

He forced a playful smile and poked her. "Truth, or dare?"

At that, she finally laughed. "Oh, right. Haha." She looked embarrassed as she pondered. "Uh… dare? I guess? You're not going to be mean, right?"

Under normal circumstances, Bucky might have been tempted to be incredibly playful with such an opportunity, but right now, he knew the real purpose here was to resolve unfinished questions. He smirked and shook his head. "Not yet, I won't," he teased. "I dare you to… demonstrate one of your powers again. Whatever you're capable of doing. Then explain it to me." He curled his knees up to his chest and rested his face against them, staring at her meaningfully. "Gotta make sure I wasn't hallucinating that fight last night, after all."

Solace giggled, even as her face turned red. It always seemed she was taken by surprise when he changed gears so quickly, from serious and solemn to sweet and playful. "Oh, no, don't think that!" she exclaimed. "But here… since it's relevant… I'll show you one of the things I know I _can_ do." She removed the gauze from the wound on the left side of his neck, and instead placed her hand over it.

He froze uncertainly, at first wondering what she was doing… and then feeling the strangest of sensations on his neck. It felt like something was forcing the wound in his neck together and tugging at the skin there. He jerked in surprise. "What are you—?"

"Shh shh. Give me a second, baby. It feels weird now, I know it does, but it's going to feel better. Just relax." She spoke the words in such a soothing, lyrical way that Bucky immediately felt his body un-tense, and his mind felt like it blurred for a few seconds. When he blinked and his vision cleared, Solace had pulled her hand away. She kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear. "Go ahead and feel it. Be gentle, though."

Bucky gave her a weird look, but obediently reached over to touch the side of his neck with his right hand. He was surprised to feel that the wound didn't feel nearly as gaping as it had earlier, and his fingers came away with only the faintest speck of blood. He looked up at her, surprised. "You…?" he began, and she smiled.

"Don't ask me how, but… I've figured out I can heal myself at an accelerated rate. I can also force others to do the same, in limited amounts," she said, smiling sheepishly. "One of the many weird things I've discovered about myself."

He stared at her, surprised, even if he reminded himself he had a similar ability. "You can make other people heal, too?" he asked.

Solace pursed her lips and shrugged, thinking about it. "Well…" she relented, picking up a fresh piece of gauze and folding it to place over his wound again. "Only in really small amounts at a time. If I try to force my own wounds to heal too fast, I pass out and it doesn't work. If I try to force someone else to heal too fast, it can cause injury instead. I, uh… speak from experience." Her face briefly twisted into an ashamed, awkward expression.

"W…what? What happens?" Bucky asked, almost afraid to know.

"First guy I tested my powers on… he had to go to the emergency room. Internal bleeding instead," she admitted. "D-Don't worry, though. He turned out all right. It was a… um… controlled environment. We… knew the risks…"

 _A controlled environment?_ Bucky had no idea what that meant, and he could tell Solace was practically biting her lip to keep from elaborating. Maybe it was part of the game still, and she knew he would have to ask her about it later. Either way, he realized there was much more to this woman than he initially realized.

"I see," he murmured, tilting his head at her. "So… what about…?" He reached over to touch her shoulder where she had been shot by Crossbones. From the stiffness of the area, he could tell she had a layer of bandages over the injury, hidden under her clothing.

Solace shrugged, dismissively. "It's fine," she said. "It hurts, but… it's not unbearable. I tend to it a little at a time throughout the day. If I had to guess, it should be good as new in a week or two."

His eyebrows rose, impressed. Well, that explained why she kept telling him not to worry about her, much in the same way he'd insisted on the same thing. Bucky rubbed his thumb over her shoulder as she treated his wound with antibiotic medication, covered it with the gauze, and then wrapped bandages around his neck to keep it in place.

"Very impressive, kitten," he praised, giving her an appreciative kiss. "But you can't tell me that's your primary talent. I'm pretty sure I know what I saw last night. It was a lot crazier than that."

Solace laughed and reached for more gauze and some medical tape, so she could begin on the rest of his wounds. "Nuh-uh, it's my turn now," she reminded. "What'll it be, soldier? Truth or dare?"

Bucky rolled his eyes, trying to hide a grin. "Oh fine. Uh… dare, I suppose."

"I dare _you_ to demonstrate some skill you have."

He shifted awkwardly, not even knowing where to begin with such a request. "I'm not sure how," he replied. "Most of my skills aren't exactly… safe to show off."

"Sounds exciting," she teased, focused on folding gauze into appropriate sizes for his injuries and taping them on carefully. "No, but seriously—what can you do? I'm really curious. You can obviously kick ass in a fight, that much I figured out."

Bucky shrugged. "That's… mostly what I do, I guess? I was… made to be stronger than the average person. Greater endurance and power, heightened reflexes, accelerated healing. I've also been trained for years in hand-to-hand combat… a variety of martial arts… and proficiency with just about every firearm you can think of," he said. The way he listed them off sounded so straightforward; he got the feeling he was subconsciously reciting his skillset from his HYDRA file. "Um… oh, and I can operate all manner of military-grade vehicles and equipment. They also programmed dozens of languages into me. If I can't speak it, I can probably still understand it somehow."

Solace cringed at the word. "Programmed?" she repeated.

Bucky didn't mean to say it so casually, but the flash of sadness in Solace's eyes made him realize that what he described was unpleasant. A nearly-robotic reference to the brainwashing and torture he'd been put through. That was basically how it worked, though.

" _Wipe him, and start over."_

He gritted his teeth, but before he could think about apologizing, Solace quickly asked another question, perhaps to get away from the uncomfortable topic.

"What _can_ you speak, then? Now I'm curious."

"Uh… I don't know. I mean, I speak whatever language I need when I have to; I don't exactly… do it on demand," he tried to explain, feeling awkward. But she seemed really interested, so he relented. "English is my first language, of course, though I do find I'm fairly comfortable with… Русский. Я обучался в Сибирии, так что ето как второй язык для меня." He slipped into Russian so casually that Solace jumped in surprise.

"Oh my God. You _do_ speak Russian," she gasped, sounding amazed and even a little… excited at the realization. Maybe it was the low growl in his voice when he spoke.

Bucky laughed, at just how much she seemed to enjoy it. "Yes, ma'am."

"Mm, I like it." Solace grinned playfully at him, before she finished taping up another one of his wounds. "But don't get me too enamored, sweet thing. It's your turn. I'll take truth."

"You should know what I'm going to ask, though," Bucky teased. "Tell me how you got all your intriguing abilities."

The question made Solace frown, yet she did not shy away from answering it. She just shrugged, helplessly. "Right, right… God, it's such a long story," she groaned, putting down the medical tape in her hands and staring at the wall. He could tell she was trying to collect her thoughts. Maybe this was the first time she'd had to think about it, or tell anyone about it, in a long time. "But… about 3 years ago, while I was still in college, I got involved in one of those experimental drug tests being held at my university. A professor of mine recommended it to me because it was supposed to treat migraines; I'd told him I had a medical history of severe ones, and sometimes they interfered with my college work. They were usually triggered by stress. I really liked and trusted this professor, so I figured why not? The first few doses seemed to work as expected. I even fancied that they were working and I wasn't getting those horrible headaches anymore. But then…"

Bucky had a feeling he knew where this was going, and his heart ached a little to think that things went wrong, and everything changed for her. "Then…?"

"Then came the coma." Solace gave a brief laugh, tinged with bitterness. "I just remember this agonizing pain in my head before I collapsed in the middle of class. I was unconscious for nearly a week, before I woke up to the most splitting headache of my life. Like I was getting stabbed in the head constantly. There was nothing the doctors could do to ease the pain, and nothing they could figure out that was wrong with me. I just… was crying for days because it was so awful. I couldn't even sleep. Sometimes I wished I would just die cause then at least it would _stop_."

Bucky was saddened over the thought of her suffering so much. Her ordeal was probably nothing compared to the years of agony he had endured, but it was still nothing anyone ought to endure, and certainly not his sweet Solace. He reached out and gently stroked her head, pulling her close. "That's terrible," he murmured against her. "I'm sorry."

He could feel her squirm against him, pushing her face closer into him for support. "Eventually… my parents decided to take me out of the hospital. At least then I could suffer in the comfort of my own home. It was a good idea; in the quiet of my house, the pain finally subsided, at least just a little. As I recovered and started getting my strength back, I began to discover I had… powers. I could like… levitate stuff and get people to do what I said. At first I had no real control over it. It just… happened."

"That must have been… terrifying. Trying to navigate that all on your own." Bucky reached out and rubbed her arm gently, staring at the pensive expression on her face. He felt like he could imagine Solace's fear, having to deal with these strange abilities all by herself.

She smiled, appreciatively. "My parents were desperate to find someone, anyone who could help," she continued. "Their online searches and nonstop phone calls eventually caught the attention of SHIELD, and one day we opened the door to find agents on our doorstep, claiming they could help people like me. I was desperate for relief, so I leaped at the chance. I spent almost a year at one of their secret complexes, working out the nuances of my powers and figuring out how to control them."

 _Ah-ha._ That was it. That explained it. Bucky had the feeling Solace was far more knowledgeable than the average civilian about the Winter Soldier and HYDRA. It also explained why she had taken such an interest in Crossbones and set out to save Alec on her own. She wasn't just some lone girl who happened to get powers and took it upon herself to become a superhero. She had training from SHIELD.

"No wonder you seem so… disciplined with your abilities," he said. "I didn't think you'd be able to achieve that much control all by yourself. Or handle yourself in fights so well."

"I don't know if I'm that good," Solace replied, sheepishly.

"It worked out, though, right?"

"Yeah, I guess." Solace seemed distant, as if she were reliving her days at the SHIELD complex. "Every day I was either hooked up to a machine, or using my powers on other machines. I would eventually progress to training against other agents, some of them with powers as well. Through various observations and experiments, we found out my powers were connected somehow to other people. Being around others would cause my headaches to return, and my powers to get more uncontrollable. We played around with why this was until it occurred to me—it wasn't just people. It was their _emotion_."

Bucky looked at her strangely. "Emotion?"

Solace nodded. "From… what I can tell… I draw my ability from negative emotions. My own, yes, but I primarily get my power from everyone else around me. I can't control the ability—I literally am constantly absorbing negative feelings from everyone in my vicinity at all times."

"How… do you figure that?" Bucky asked, unsure of how to feel about what she was saying. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting to hear—maybe she was psychic; that would have been his first guess—but it hadn't been _that_.

"Well… after spending a few months at the SHIELD complex, I realized I start to build power just being next to people," she said, trying to break it down mechanically so it all made sense. "But where I really start to noticeably affect people is when I talk, and especially when I sing. People kinda get… dazed talking to me. After multiple trials and interviews with people, my trainers realized that's not just cause I'm relaxing to listen to—I'm actually taking the negativity out of people. Agents who walked into the training room all pumped and aggressive and ready to fight—they would say they suddenly didn't feel like fighting anymore once I started talking to them. Whatever anxiety or anger or fear or pain they might have been feeling… it would all leave their minds, and they'd be calm. Me, on the other hand? I could feel my power increasing."

At first, Bucky thought she was joking. The idea of her sucking the negativity out of people and using it to fuel her abilities was… ridiculous. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. From the moment he began talking to her, Solace had a way of making him feel completely comfortable in her presence. He even remembered getting sleepy whenever they had conversations on the bus together. Then he also remembered that guy that had tried to rob them on their first date, and how she'd literally sang him into submission.

"All of that training was brutal… but at the same time, I'm glad SHIELD found me. I would never have made it without their training and tests," Solace continued, sounding appreciative and exhausted all in the same breath. She obviously was happy for what she discovered, but going through all that must have been unpleasant. "Together we figured out where my abilities came from… and how to control them. I found out that listening to music or just… focusing on rhythms in general really helped soothe my mind after absorbing a lot of emotion."

Her explanation reminded Bucky about how she liked listening to her MP3 player on the bus when they first met, and generally how much she liked humming, singing to herself, or even just speaking in a lyrical way. It all really connected the more he turned it over in his head.

"I suppose after all that, SHIELD offered you a job, too?" he asked.

"Yeah. But… I declined, saying I really wanted to finish college first. That was important to me. When they realized I was settled on that point, they had to swear me up and down to secrecy, before leaving me instructions on how to contact them again when I was ready to join. That… unfortunately, never happened." Solace shot Bucky a helpless look, and he knew full well she was referring to Washington, D.C. "I mean, I was ready, but then that whole Project Insight thing happened, and… well…"

Bucky reached out and took her hand, cutting her off. They both knew how that story ended for SHIELD. "I'm sorry you had to get mixed up with that whole mess," he said.

Solace shook her head, though she sounded grateful for his concern. "It's fine… I mean, from what I can piece together, HYDRA was in there all along. If I joined earlier, I guess I would have really been in danger."

 _Who knows… you might have had to fight me._

As improbable as it probably was, the thought made Bucky cringe. If Solace had been a SHIELD agent at the time, the Winter Soldier would have had no problem killing her, without even so much as a second thought. He pictured himself shooting her in cold blood, or perhaps grabbing her and throwing her to her death, and both scenarios were unbearable. He sucked in a sharp breath and had to squeeze his eyes shut against such images.

"Bucky… baby, it's ok." Solace was whispering to him, and he pushed his face into her hair as she hugged him.

"S-Sorry. I just…"

She shook her head; the explanation wasn't necessary. All she wanted was for him to be all right.

"So," she murmured, after stroking his hair and ensuring his breathing had relaxed, eager to draw his focus elsewhere. "What'll it be, soldier?"

Bucky laughed weakly at the repeated question, remembering they were still playing this rather introspective and emotional game of Truth or Dare. It would have been silly, if the questions weren't actually helping him concentrate. "I'll go with truth, ma'am," he replied dutifully.

Solace kissed him quickly, seeming happy he still wanted to humor her. "Ok. This is going to be kind of weird, and maybe you won't even remember what I'm talking about… But um… last night. When I found you on the sidewalk and was trying to get you to safety. You were… talking to me."

"I remember you saying that," Bucky replied, though he could not for the life of him remember actually doing what she described. "What did I say, again…?"

"Uh… well, I could tell you were talking to like… people you were seeing in your dreams or memories or whatever," she began, hesitantly. "Sometimes you'd be talking to me, but other times… another name kept coming up. Steve." She looked at him, with a genuinely confused expression. "So I was curious to know… who is he? Someone important to you?"

Bucky bristled, just a little, despite himself. He didn't know why he should feel defensive about Solace bringing Steve into the conversation, but he did. Maybe out of all the memories he wanted to protect, Steve's was the most precious to him, and he would defend it against anyone, even Solace. But he knew she was incredibly important to him too, so he would have to force himself to lower his defenses. He would share this precious thing with her if he must.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky reached over to the nearby nightstand and grabbed the notebook still lying on top of it. He flipped it open, went through a few pages, before finally handing it to her as explanation. He watched Solace study the pages he had presented her, and her eyes widened.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," she said, her fingers tracing over the taped pictures in the book. "This is… Steve Rogers. Captain America." Her head shot up to stare at him. "You… know Captain America?"

"…So I'm told."

"But… but how? That doesn't make sense," she said. Bucky had expected her surprise, but he hadn't expected her attempting to reason it out; the comment made him look up in confusion. "I mean… didn't the Winter Soldier—you—try to kill him?"

"I… did try," Bucky acknowledged, though his heart hurt at the thought. "He… said he was my friend. And I… I think he was right. I just don't… remember."

Solace still seemed perplexed; he could practically see the gears turning in her head. "But… how? I mean, he like… got frozen in ice or something like that back in the 40s, and just woke up 3 years ago. How could you possibly—"

She stopped herself mid-sentence, and Bucky winced at how he could practically see her train of thought travel to its most logical and likely conclusion. Her expression changed from confused to aghast.

"Wait. No. No no no." Solace recoiled from where she had been nestled next to him on the bed. "You're not… You can't be…" She bit her lip and stared at him, astonished. "Don't tell me you've been around as long as he has…?"

Bucky gave her a sympathetic, helpless look; there was nothing he could say to her that wouldn't sound absurd. "I… supposedly died back in 1945, during the war," he said, remembering the notes he had taken from the Smithsonian Institute back in Washington, D.C. "But… I didn't. I survived. HYDRA got their hands on me… and I've been with them ever since."

"B-But…!" Solace gasped. "You aren't… I mean… How did you survive this long? I don't understand…"

"I know it's difficult to understand. It really doesn't make any sense," Bucky said, trying to calm her. He could tell she was panicking over the realization that the man in front of her was nearly a hundred years old. "But listen. See… HYDRA only had me active when they needed me. Once they created the Winter Soldier, they wanted to keep him around as long as possible."

Bucky paused for a moment, trying not to think too deeply about the cryogenic chambers. The first time he'd been put into one, he had been terrified, confused, a prisoner watching himself sentenced to an icy tomb in one moment, then waking up what seemed like moments later and being tortured until his confusion and fear were erased and forgotten. "When I finished a mission, they would put me into cryogenic sleep. They woke me up when they needed the Winter Soldier again… then put me back when they were done. Over and over. That's why I haven't aged. They probably would have put me back if I had actually… killed Captain America. If I succeeded in my mission and HYDRA hadn't fallen apart…"

Solace's face fell, shock and sadness written into every feature in her expression. She obviously understood what he was saying, but it was as if she couldn't allow herself to believe it. She couldn't fathom this person she cared so much about being subjected to such a cruel fate. Captain America waking up after sleeping in the ice for 67 years sounded sort of magical. A hero out of time who would always be around to protect people. Bucky Barnes being subjected to constant experimentation, brainwashing, and cryogenic sleep in that same frame of time was just monstrous. He could see her trying to figure it all out, and having nearly as much trouble with it as he was.

"That's… I can't even…" she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "I-I thought it was horrible enough to think you'd experienced all that stuff even briefly. But it's been… _decades_?" She turned away, as if unable to look at the physical proof of what had happened to him. "I-I… can't believe this…"

Bucky sighed and buried his face in his hands. He longed to comfort her, but at the same time was terrified he had scared her off. That the complete and utter shock of realizing he was from a completely different period of time than her, and that he'd been a weapon of HYDRA long before she'd ever been born, was just too much for her to handle.

"Solace, I'm sorry," he mumbled, forcing back tears. "You don't… have to believe it. You don't have to understand it. I won't hold that against you. You don't have to deal with all this…"

"No. Please… stop apologizing." Solace seemed to snap out of her grief and fear as soon as his words left his mouth. "This is… this is so much to take in, but… I'm not going to let that change my mind about you. Not again. If I can deal with the fact that I'm dating the Winter Soldier… then I can deal with the fact that I'm also dating a… World War II vet. I mean, older men have their charm, too, you know…?"

Bucky couldn't help but laugh, at the same time she did. The two finally looked up and smiled hesitantly at each other, trying to draw what strength they could from the warmth in the other person's eyes. "I've never met anyone so… resilient," he whispered, gazing at the woman in front of him with affection. "I've thrown so much at you, and you just… always find a way to turn it into something positive. I'm not worth that much effort. You don't have to take all this."

Solace sniffed back her tears and shook her head fiercely. "Bucky… baby, I know I don't," she said. "But I choose to. Because… I know you. The real you. You're not a bad person, and I know you didn't choose what happened to you. You're too sweet and loyal and strong for that. So please. Don't be sorry for your life."

Bucky couldn't help but be touched by the determination in her voice. "…I'm not," he realized, cracking a weak smile. "You know why? Because without it… I wouldn't be here. With you."

For a moment, Solace seemed lost in this revelation. As if she had to take a few seconds to wrap her head around the fact that without the pain he'd gone through… they wouldn't be sitting together right at that moment. They never would have met, they never would have shared a single smile, they never would have touched, and they certainly never would have kissed. He could tell the realization weighed on her heavily.

"I'm… sorry you had to go through all that," she said, quietly. He could tell she wanted to say more, that "sorry" was a pathetic response to the sheer tragedy that was Bucky's life, but she didn't really know what words _would_ be enough. "But I am… really happy you're here."

"Me too, kitten. Me too."

He reached over to pull her close again, and she sighed happily in his arms. They were again quiet for a few brief moments, taking comfort from one another after muddling through so much of their painful stories.

"…I think I got everything," she finally murmured, and Bucky had to look down to realize she was talking about his injuries. She'd managed to successfully bandage everything back up.

"Thanks, beautiful," he whispered, kissing her on the head.

Solace rubbed her face against his. "Did you still want to ask me anything else?" she asked, softly.

Bucky considered. "Mm… maybe. The only thing I'm still curious about… are your other abilities. Specifically… you said you get your power from negative energy. But what do you _do_ with it?" he asked. "I guess I've seen what you do in battle…"

"That's… about the extent of it," Solace explained. He watched her as she grabbed the first aid kit and started putting everything away. "I've figured out how to… manipulate objects. Levitate and 'grab' things. Sometimes people, too. The proper term is 'telekinesis,' apparently, though I'm not really psychic or whatever."

"Ah. I understand." Bucky remembered how she'd used her glimmering, barely-visible energy during the fight with Crossbones; it was as if she'd used an invisible hand to grab him and keep him from attacking. "And the… force field things?"

"Yep. I use the raw emotional energy I've absorbed from others to create… bubbles, I call them." She giggled at herself. "Those started out more… reflexive. When I was at the SHIELD complex, it took us a while to figure out why the agents I was training against kept getting repelled from me whenever they attacked. I practiced how to use that on demand. But I'm still learning. It's not… easy to use."

Bucky supposed it wasn't, but it was still intriguing to think about. Having personal energy shields sounded useful. "Definitely came in handy last night," he remarked.

Solace laughed, embarrassed, before she set the first aid kit on the nightstand and lay back on the bed again. "I suppose."

For a moment, Bucky gazed at her, noting how vulnerable and emotionally conflicted she appeared. She had taken in a lot, but she'd also shared a lot with him. Doubtless there were numerous things running through her mind, and it was probably mentally exhausting. Especially if, as she said, she was always taking in negative energy. He knew there was plenty of that to go around here.

"Are you sleepy, kitten, or can I ask one more question?" he asked, gently brushing his hand through her hair.

She wiggled cutely. "Sure. Go ahead. I don't mind."

Bucky sighed and let himself lay down next to her, brushing his hand over her hip with affection. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but… I just… was curious. How much am _I_ affected by your power, do you think?"

Solace frowned slightly, pondering the question. "Um… well, when I first met you… you were pretty impressionable," she mused. "I would talk to you and you'd get all… sleepy or relaxed. Which is normal. But… after the first month or two, you started getting more and more resistant to it. I can't really influence you anymore."

Bucky's head jerked up at the thought. " _Anymore_?" he repeated.

She froze, realizing what she had said. "I… Bucky, that's… not really what I meant..." she stammered, looking frightened.

But it was too late. He suddenly was worried that his feelings for Solace had been coerced, that she'd somehow used her powers—either intentionally or accidentally—to charm him and place him under her spell. That their relationship was only a thing because she'd hypnotized him into it. He didn't want that to be true, but it was something he was afraid of, now that he understood the nature of her abilities. "You don't… _try_ to use your ability on me, do you?" he asked.

Solace quickly shook her head. "N-no, of course not," she said. But she seemed to pause, and when she finally continued, her voice had lowered with reluctance. "Not… normally, anyway. I… did use it on you last night. When you were half-conscious and I had to get you off the sidewalk. I basically used all the power I could to compel you to get up and follow me. I spoke to your memories, basically convinced you to listen to me through the lens of whatever it was you were seeing. I don't usually like messing with people's thoughts and perceptions… but I was desperate. I hope… that's ok."

For a moment, Bucky's gaze was distant. He suddenly remembered the odd, disparate visions he'd had in his injured, delirious state. Could it be that Solace had been listening to what he was saying, and using her powers so he would respond in the way she needed him to? He couldn't know for certain, and maybe he never would. But it was a little chilling how… intimately she could tap into his vulnerable mental state.

"I… guess it is," he said, reluctantly. "You had to do what you had to do."

Solace reached up and brushed his cheek gently. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Baby… please believe me when I say I haven't been doing that to you this whole time. I don't want to play with your head like that, not if I don't have to. Last night was just… an emergency. But… I can't promise I won't do it again if I think it could save you."

He breathed a soft sigh, and reluctantly nodded. "No… I think I understand. I can't say I'm that comfortable with the thought, but… I understand what desperation can necessitate, sometimes." He reached up and pulled her wrist to his lips briefly. "…Thank you for being honest."

Her eyes softened. "You're precious to me, Bucky. I would never take advantage of you. That, I can promise."

"I know, kitten. I trust you."

He was too emotionally tired to argue, too tired to be suspicious and afraid of her. He just wanted to hold her close and believe in everything she represented to him. Solace scooted closer to him, and he loved how warm and soft she felt against his body.

"I'm sorry for all this, Bucky," she whispered. "I know all of this was hard to talk about. But… I'm… really glad we could share it, too."

Bucky nodded in agreement and closed his eyes. There was something relieving in getting his past out and into the open with Solace. He knew his life was unpleasant, and painful, and hard to listen to. He was just grateful she hadn't fled from it. That she hadn't fled from _him_.

A loud noise, sort of below and outside of the apartment, suddenly reached their ears. Solace looked up, alarmed, as the sound—sounding like booming voices talking—gradually grew louder, but Bucky was familiar with it by now. The two of them sat up, and Bucky wrapped his arms around Solace from behind.

"Don't worry… my downstairs neighbor just turned on his TV," he explained, kissing her shoulder and feeling her relax in his arms. "I don't know if he's old or deaf or what, but he always turns up the volume really loud. With the window open, too. I don't mind just because I don't have to have my own TV, thanks to him."

Solace laughed, her eyes following Bucky as he got up and walked over to the window. He unlocked it and pushed it open, keeping the blinds down; now they could hear the news broadcast playing. "I always think he must be old because all he watches is the local news," Bucky added. "Sometimes Jeopardy, too."

"Sounds about right," she grinned, lying on her tummy and letting her legs flail in the air. He sat down next to her, and the two concentrated on the broadcast.

"… _Police have announced that the young boy kidnapped last Friday, Alec Ternz, has been safely rescued at last. His kidnapper was identified as Brock Rumlow, a.k.a. 'Crossbones.' Rumlow was a former member of a governmental counter-terrorist unit, but officials have confirmed he has now gone rogue. While investigations are still ongoing, police are confident that Rumlow was also responsible for the murder of prominent area businessman Jonathan Ternz two weeks ago, as well as the string of crimes across Philadelphia over the last several days that put the city on high alert."_

"Brock Rumlow, huh? He told me he used to work for HYDRA," Solace mused, her brow crinkled in thought. "And SHIELD. One of those secret HYDRA agents, I guess?"

Bucky nodded. "Mm-hm. I remember working with him briefly. Pretty ruthless, but… intelligent too. I guess after he nearly died… he went off to do his own thing."

"… _Officials revealed that the reports of Rumlow's masked accomplice were, in fact, sightings of young Alec, being forced to assist Rumlow in his crime spree. They are calling it a miracle that the boy was safely recovered, with only minor injuries. They also revealed preliminary evidence that implies Rumlow was hoping to put together his own team of trained accomplices—extra gear, weaponry, and a list of names discovered in a stolen armored truck left behind suggests that Rumlow had his eye on additional young teens in the city and was ready to recruit more of them to his cause."_

Bucky could feel Solace tense next to him, and he remembered Crossbones's plans for creating a team of mercenary children. He hadn't realized just how elaborate the plan really had been. "What a freak," Solace muttered under her breath, though he could feel her trembling.

"… _When questioned, Ternz said that he was rescued by mysterious superheroes that fought off Rumlow, and disappeared as suddenly as they appeared. Police are still searching for these masked heroes, as well as Rumlow, who was seen in a stolen car that fled the city late last night."_

"Sounds like he left," Bucky said, relieved at the news. Hopefully that meant Crossbones would not be returning anytime soon. "I just hope the police protect Alec better. I wouldn't put it past Crossbones to come back just for revenge."

He was worried the thought would upset Solace, but she nodded, obviously having considered the same thing herself. "Yeah… They didn't take Alec seriously last time, and he got kidnapped," she pointed out. "I hope they remember that going forward."

Bucky brushed his fingers over her back soothingly, listening as the news broadcast went into a recap of the last two weeks: Alec's father's murder, Alec's kidnapping several days later, the bank robbery and bombing, the attack on the city bus, and the attempted robbery of that truck from the parts store. There was also discussion on the mysterious heroes that had saved Alec, questioning whether they were truly altruistic, and speaking of "rumors" that the heroes were well-armed, based on the guns Bucky had been forced to leave behind.

Once they started getting into the speculation, Bucky got up and closed the window again. He didn't want to think about the implications of the fight. He knew if the federal government got involved, they would eventually realize who had been there—his weapons were all Soviet-made or modified to produce no rifling marks, which ironically identified them as belonging to the Winter Soldier.

Solace watched him as he turned away from the window, attempting a smile. "Maybe we should eat something," she suggested.

"Aren't you tired?"

"Sure, but I'm also hungry," she replied. "I was going to make soup and sandwiches for dinner if that's ok. There are a few snacks in there too, if you can't wait that long."

She made as if to sit up, but Bucky pushed her back down on the bed. "Just rest up," he said, firmly. "I'll make dinner. I'll let you know when it's ready."

"You sure…?"

"Positive."

She didn't seem like she had any energy to argue, so she rolled over obediently and pulled the sheets over herself. "…Thanks, baby."

Bucky smiled, just a little, as he switched off the lights. He didn't know why, but it felt nice to take care of her, and even nicer to see her curled up in his bed. "Anything for you, kitten," he replied, affectionately.

He only wished this could last.

* * *

 _Translations:_

(1) Я обучался в Сибирии, так что ето как второй язык для меня. _[…Russki'. Ya obuchalsya v Sibirii, tak shto eto kak vtoroy' yazik dlya menya.] – "…[the] Russian language. I was trained in Siberia, so it's like a second language for me."_

* * *

 _Apologies, once again, for the really long chapter of mostly just dialogue and emotion and stuff. Hopefully it was enjoyable enough to make up for the lack of action. The next chapter is more of the same… but some interesting plot points are revealed. :)_

 _Please consider reviewing to let me know what you thought, and I'll see you next week!_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 11**_

When he was certain Solace was asleep again, getting some much needed rest, Bucky quietly knelt down next to the bed and reached underneath to pull out his backpack. It was the one he had packed for emergencies if he had to leave at a moment's notice. He figured he could give Solace some extra time to sleep while he went through his things and decided what else he wanted to take.

He carried the bag out to the dining room table, where he unzipped it and looked inside. In addition to a few basic travel necessities—spare cash, one change of clothing, and some fake identification—the only other things in it were several notebooks, similar to the one he kept on his nightstand, and a set of pens and pencils. Bucky pulled them out to make room to pack, but as a second thought, he picked up the top one and flipped through it, with a contemplative expression. The other notebooks were still blank, but this one had already been filled out with his tidy handwriting and scratchy sketches.

While the current notebook he was working on was organized by person, with neat sections and little tabs so he could find things easily, this particular one had no sense of organization at all. Bucky had dumped every random thought he had into it after leaving HYDRA and going on the run. Broken thoughts, disembodied quotes, dreams that woke him up in the middle of the night… all of those things had gone into the notebook, resulting in a jumbled, disturbing mess. Some of the memories were pleasant, but others… not so much.

As Bucky flipped through the notebook, he recalled that a large section of pages in the middle had been dedicated to a sudden moment of clarity several months ago; he'd somehow remembered every single kill mission he'd ever been on, and recorded the details with almost-surgical precision. He had spent several hours each day for a whole week dutifully penning what he remembered. Once he'd finished the last entry, he reread everything he wrote, sat there for several minutes, then immediately went to the bathroom and threw up in the toilet. By the time he was finished and his throat was raw, he'd forgotten nearly everything he'd written down. He still remembered the moment of each and every death, what each victim's last word or action was in life, but everything leading up to each kill—or even when they'd occurred, or why they had to die—was a foggy blur again. As if his own mind was fighting hard to protect him from the realization that he was the soldier as cold and unfeeling and brutal as the winter itself.

Even just scanning through the pages and glimpsing a word or two here and there made Bucky feel nauseous, so he slammed the notebook shut. But as unpleasant as the memories were, they were still his, and he'd have to reconcile with them eventually. That was why he guarded them so desperately. He didn't want the fragile, shattered fragments of his mind to be taken away and used against him.

He quietly went back into the bedroom again, going through his clothing and trying to decide what he wanted to take, and what could be left behind. Most of what he ended up selecting was clothing that reminded him of Solace and their time together. Things he wore on dates with her, and the like. Bucky folded everything he wanted to pack as tightly as possible and placed them in the bag. It was hard to wrap his brain around the fact that he'd only been acquainted with Solace for almost three months, and that they'd only been dating for two weeks. So much seemed to have happened in that time, and he surprised himself with how fast and hard he'd fallen for her. Now he just wished he could have just a little more time with her. One last date, one last dance, one last everything before he said goodbye.

Reminding himself of all this was upsetting, so Bucky left the room before it got to be too much. He needed to focus on something else that wouldn't make him sentimental. He tossed his bag on the floor and headed to the kitchen to start dinner.

Bucky started by familiarizing himself with the ingredients in the kitchen, most of them items Solace had purchased earlier. It looked like she was intent on making some kind of chicken noodle soup from scratch, along with sandwiches. He deliberately set the ingredients out one at a time and pondered what to do with them. On the back of a soup starter package that Solace had purchased, he found a recipe for soup and found the ingredients matched what she had purchased. It wasn't very often that Bucky chose to cook meals from scratch, but he felt determined for some reason to try it now.

Prepping everything was a slow, but relaxing task; he carefully and awkwardly chopped up all the vegetables and chicken into appropriate pieces, before readying a pot on the stove with broth ingredients. Forcing himself to slow down and commit to such a mechanical task was soothing, in much the same way his job at the auto repair place was. Bucky realized, regrettably, that he would miss the routine of the job, despite how dirty and difficult and low-paying it was.

Once the soup was assembled and all the components were bubbling merrily away, Bucky turned his attention to the sandwiches. These were much easier for him to assemble, and he set the finished plates in the refrigerator to keep them chilled until soup was done and Solace was awake. He cleaned up his mess, washed up, and breathed in deeply. The scent of the cooking soup on the stove made him happy for some reason; maybe it proved he could have a normal life if he really wanted to. If the world decided to give him a chance.

Leaving the kitchen, Bucky eyed the items crowded on top of the dining room table and decided to clear them off in preparation for dinner. He picked up Solace's bag and the poster tube and set them against the nearby wall; unfortunately, the open bag tipped over anyway and the top few items spilled out. Bucky was startled to hear something hard clang against the floor, and he kneeled down to investigate. A heavy item wrapped in a dirty cloth seemed to be the culprit, and when he unwrapped it to see what it was, he was shocked to see it was his combat knife. It had been cleaned of any blood, but somehow Solace had recovered it from the fight last night and brought it back.

"Kitten… what are you doing?" he hissed, as he put her other items back in her bag again. Solace would have been in big trouble if the police had found this on her. Why would she keep it? Did she think it had some sentiment to it?

…To be fair, he realized, as he gazed at the blade in his hand, the knife was no ordinary combat knife. It was a World War II era weapon, a knife standard issued to soldiers in the U.S. Army. Why HYDRA had allowed him to keep such a thing, he wasn't sure. But he knew they were no strangers to manipulating his thoughts and memories with items from his past. Subconsciously, the Winter Soldier must have made a personal connection to the item over the many decades, because he still had it after all this time.

Bucky carefully carried the knife back to the bedroom, rummaging around until he found the sheath for the knife still attached to his bloodied uniform. He was in the middle of putting it away when Solace rolled over in bed and groaned.

"Can't sleep anymore… too hungry…" she whined. "My tummy feels like it's eating itself."

Bucky snorted at her cute complaint, tossing the weapon haphazardly into the half-open case still lying nearby, along with his crumpled-up uniform. "Well, dinner is ready. You can go ahead and eat," he said.

Solace sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Did you really make dinner? I thought you were just joking or something."

"Oh, come on. I'm not _that_ great at cooking, but I _can_ do it. You're not scared or anything, are you?"

"Never," she giggled.

He rolled his eyes at her before looking back down at his weapon case. "I was cleaning off the table… Why did you bring this back, anyway?" he asked, indicating the knife.

"Oh, you found that? Sorry. I… noticed it on the way out before I left the construction site," Solace explained, sounding awkward. "I think Crossbones like… threw it aside or something. I felt like maybe you'd want it back for some reason? I don't know; I wasn't really thinking straight at the time. Sorry I couldn't get anything else."

"It's fine. I don't know if I'm taking it with me, anyway."

As soon as the comment left his mouth, Bucky sucked in his breath and bit his lip. But it was too late; Solace's eyes looked down immediately, her whole body slumping. He basically just reminded them both of what they didn't want to think about—him leaving.

With a sigh, Bucky got up again and held out his hands. She slowly, reluctantly took them, letting him pull her to her feet. When Solace looked up, he gave her a quick, yet meaningful kiss on the lips, one that made her gasp softly and let her eyes flutter closed.

"Smile for me, kitten," he growled in her ear.

At that, Solace had to comply, beaming up at him even as a small shiver went through her. "No fair," she purred, leaning up to kiss his chin. "I can't say no to that face."

Bucky laughed at the idea and kissed her again. The face she supposedly liked so much was currently black and blue and covered in bloody wounds. "I didn't realize you were attracted to me getting beaten up," he teased, before grabbing her hips and pushing her out of the room.

The two sat down to their dinner soon after. Eating seemed to reanimate Solace, and she seemed incredibly pleased with his treatment of the food. "I can't believe you did such a good job with this! You should have been cooking for me a long time ago," she teased.

"You're just trying to make me feel good," Bucky retorted. "I don't know how to cook all _that_ well. I just followed the directions on the box."

Solace smiled sweetly and blew him a kiss across the table. "You still pulled it off," she reminded. "Not everyone can do that!"

He grinned. Even if she _was_ just patronizing him, it still felt nice.

As the two ate, Solace questioned Bucky about his life. Not the specifics of how he'd become the Winter Soldier, or what he'd done since then; no, she was far more interested in learning about his childhood, what it was like growing up in the 20s and 30s. Bucky tried his best to come up with answers, but a lot of his responses were a helpless "I don't remember." Finally, after what must have been the ninth time he'd said that, Solace finally sat back in her chair and stared at him.

"Do you have any pencil and paper?" she asked.

It was a bit out of the blue, so Bucky at first wasn't sure how to respond. "Uh… pencil and paper…? I… Oh, wait, I do." He leaned over to grab his backpack where he'd thrown it on the floor, and pulled out a pencil and one of his blank notebooks. He passed it to her across the table. "You can use that."

Solace examined the notebook, before turning to the first page. As always, she was curious about anything he did. "Do you journal or something?" she asked, as she began to write.

"Yeah… I try to record all my thoughts. Things I remember. You know, so I can come back to them later and try to figure them out."

He thought Solace would try to press for more detail, or ask for examples, but thankfully she did not. She simply looked at him for a moment before nodding, and looking back down at what she was writing. Her handwriting was nice, although somewhat slanted as she wrote on the blank page. "That's a really good idea," she mused. "That's actually what I was thinking, too. Here." She held up the open notebook to him, and Bucky saw she had written a series of questions. He realized they were the questions she had just asked that he didn't have an answer to.

"Oh. You want me to keep the questions in case I remember the answer later," he said.

"Yeah, exactly!" she exclaimed, seeming proud of herself.

Bucky watched her with amusement as she continued to write in the notebook, in between bites of food. He wasn't sure what else she was adding to the list of questions, but he wasn't about to peek over the table and find out. He liked being kept guessing when it came to her.

"If it's ok to ask," Bucky ventured, after they'd both finished their dinner, "I'm curious what that thing is. Is it yours?" He pointed at the poster tube he'd laid against the wall, next to Solace's bag.

She gave it an inquisitive look along with him. "I'm not sure what it is," she admitted. "When you left the construction site last night, I didn't know what to do. I honestly felt kinda… frozen. Alec had to get me to move again. Told me I should leave. When the police arrived, Alec went out to meet them and distract them while I hid behind the truck. I was about to slip out another entrance to the site when I noticed… _that_ in the driver's seat. I reached through the window and snatched it up before I ran away."

"Any… particular reason?"

Solace shrugged and got up from her seat, to pick up the poster tube and bring it back to the table. "Not really. I mean, I figured if Crossbones had it… it must be important," she reasoned, studying it for a moment before opening one end and shaking out the contents. Bucky reached over to help her pull out what looked like several large, thick sheets of paper rolled up together into the tube. Solace tossed the tube aside, before grabbing their empty plates and rushing them off to the kitchen. While she was away, Bucky unrolled the papers and tried to smooth them flat against the table.

"So what is it?" she asked, coming up next to him. The top sheet appeared to be some kind of blueprint, with technical drawings and diagrams laid out across the page. Solace frowned and leaned in closer, running her hands over the paper. "Plans for some kind of machine…? It looks like the instructions are written in Russian, though. Can you understand it, baby…?"

Bucky didn't respond right away, his eyes transfixed on the diagram in front of him. He _absolutely_ understood everything on the page, and he could feel himself breathing faster as the Cyrillic letters blurred together. His teeth ground together hard and his whole body tensed; he could practically feel the agony that coursed through him and hear his muffled screams all over again.

"Bucky, Bucky…!" Solace's voice was urgent and firm in his ears, and he felt himself grasping for it, trying not to not drown in the agony that was his memory. He felt her touch his arm, and he had to steady himself against the table so he wouldn't grab her and potentially hurt her.

"Baby, shh… Breathe. Look at me," she insisted.

He stared at her, desperately, and felt her voice wash over him as she began to whisper soothingly. This time, he was actively aware that she was trying to use her power on him, and he could feel himself struggling not to give in. But she was humming something soft against his ear, her lips moving as she sang and touched every segment of his heart, every corner of his mind, until at last he could catch his breath and see in front of him without the room spinning.

Solace's expression was serious as she touched his face, and he felt the haze lift from his vision. "What is it?" she asked, gently but insistently.

Bucky let his gaze travel over the plans again, taking a deep breath. "Mашина Промывание Мозгов,"(1) he muttered, finally able to focus on what was before him without panicking. "I-It's a Memory Suppression Machine. HYDRA developed it to torture an individual so… so their memory would be wiped. They could then be reprogrammed—given orders that they would have to follow without question."

"W-Wait, you mean…" Solace's eyes were wide as she looked at him again, and she suddenly looked pale. "Was this what they—?"

"Used on me? Yes. It was at least _part_ of the control process. How they kept me in line if I ever… started remembering things they didn't need the Winter Soldier to remember." Bucky swallowed, and tentatively recalled the one HYDRA had set up in the bank in Washington, D.C.

She looked away, obviously upset. "W-Why would he have this…?" she asked, trembling. At first, Bucky thought she was asking him what he thought, but then he realized she was talking to herself. "Would he really have…? No… No, he wouldn't…"

"What?" Bucky asked, sharply. When Solace didn't reply immediately, he grabbed her arm and shook her. "What are you talking about? Why would Crossbones have this?"

Solace stared at him with an almost terrified expression, trying to yank free of his grip. But Bucky wasn't letting her go anywhere unless she answered the question. "Maybe I should… just explain everything," she suggested, timidly.

He glared at her, unimpressed. "Go ahead."

She looked away from him as she began. "The first night Alec was kidnapped… I went out to track down the criminal who did it. I… had an idea of what he looked like; the police had a composite sketch they made based on Alec's description of his dad's murderer, and I took a picture of it when they left me alone in the interview room. I eventually found Crossbones… and we fought. I was in way over my head… and that's… where I got the black eye. Among other injuries I tried not to let on."

Bucky nodded slowly, remembering his own anger when he found out Solace had been hurt. He always had the hunch she was lying about what really happened… and now it made sense why.

"I thought maybe I could bide my time for a while and see what Crossbones did next. The next time I encountered him, I found him attacking that bus with his sidekick—or that's what I thought at the time. When he saw me, he immediately broke away from the bus and started chasing me. We got into another fight, but… again, he was way too strong. It took all I had to hold him off. And when I discovered Alec was actually his accomplice…" She trailed off, helpless and frustrated.

Bucky nodded, trying not to show his impatience. He appreciated Solace's explanation, but he was still more interested in why Crossbones would have these HYDRA plans. "Go on."

"Well… Crossbones threatened Alec's life. Told me to stay out of his business. I think he thought I was working with the authorities," she continued. "We made a deal at the time—I'd let him carry out a robbery he was planning without tipping off the police or trying to stop him, and he'd release Alec to me unharmed. He said he had another plan set up anyway, and Alec wasn't cut out to be a good accomplice. I… I can't believe I was dumb enough to think he was telling the truth."

"He didn't plan on releasing Alec at all."

Solace nodded, looking angry. "Anyway, I planned on holding up my part of the bargain, but Crossbones stopped by my apartment the next day just to remind me of it. He kicked in my door to intimidate me and show he somehow figured out where I lived. I was… afraid, but at the same time, not? It was just… so surreal. I don't know if I would have been able to go out after him even if I wanted to; I was so… paralyzed."

Bucky remembered that day well, when he had found Solace's door smashed in. He realized that if Crossbones had wanted to, he could have tried to kill Solace in her own apartment. Bucky could have walked in on that and… and…

He bit his lip, fighting back the helpless fury rising in him. Who knew what kind of murderous rage the Winter Soldier would have mustered if Solace had been harmed then. He finally let his hand loosen around Solace's arm, and she quickly tugged herself free, rubbing the area ruefully.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

She didn't respond to the apology except to glare at the table, her expression a little hurt and upset. "I left him alone for a few days, assuming he was going to carry out his robbery. He said he just needed to rob a parts store, and no one had to get hurt. But… when I showed up at the meeting place and time last night, ready to take Alec home, Crossbones instead accused me of hiring you and ruining the whole robbery. And… I suppose you know what happened from there."

Bucky digested the information and nodded absently, trying to piece together everything she had just said with how he remembered the events. Solace had made a deal with Crossbones to let him steal that truck full of parts, but Bucky had interfered. Furious with what he perceived as Solace's reneging on the deal, Crossbones attempted to kill her before leaving the city with Alec. Thankfully, Bucky had interfered with that, too.

But from what Solace had explained, it seemed like the botched robbery had angered Crossbones the most. The loss of the parts… These plans…

" _You can make_ _anyone_ _do what you want, with the right leverage."_

"The parts he wanted to steal… I think they were for this machine," Bucky realized. "That's why he wasn't concerned about Alec resisting his orders. He was going to build this, and…"

From the stricken expression on Solace's face, he knew she had already come to the same conclusion. "Right… He could… wipe memories… and then train Alec to only ever listen to him…"

Bucky gritted his teeth and fought the urge to crumple the papers under his hands. To rip the plans apart into a million pieces. "He might have been inspired after seeing it used on me in Washington, D.C.," he reasoned. "I'm also going to guess he stole the plans from HYDRA at some point after Project Insight failed and HYDRA's chain of command fell apart. It probably wouldn't take much to wipe a child's memories and make them completely obedient to Crossbones. Then he'd get the little protégé army he wanted without having to worry about them defying him."

"H-How could he do that…?"

"I suppose he has contacts with HYDRA agents still—or if he doesn't, he could probably find _somebody_ able to translate and implement the plans," Bucky replied, assuming she was asking about the logistics of the plan. His mind was going through everything Crossbones had done, and suddenly everything made a lot of sense. "That bank robbery… I bet he stole enough money that he could pay anyone off to build the machine for him—"

He trailed off when he looked at Solace, and realized she was crying.

She had her hand over her mouth and nose, trying her best to hold back her sobs, but the tears fell down her face freely as she stared at the blueprints. Concerned, he reached out and brushed his hand over her shoulder; she finally looked up at him and shuddered.

"H-How could anyone do that to a child…?" she asked, her voice cracking with emotion. "To kidnap and force Alec to experience all those terrible things was bad enough… B-But he… he wanted to… t-to torture him and make him lose his memories too…?"

Bucky pulled her close as she began to cry again, letting her bury her face against him and hug him tight, like he was the only thing left to hold onto. But it was ironic and sad, Solace having to cling to the Winter Soldier for such comfort. Alec had escaped such a terrible turn of events. Bucky had not.

"Crossbones didn't care. A child, an adult… no life was worth his respect. All he wanted was to succeed in his plans," he tried to explain. "There's no understanding that, Solace. Just defying it. That's what you're here for. To fight against people like that."

Solace shook her head against him, sniffling. "I'm no good at fighting, though," she whispered. "He would have won if it were up to me. I don't know what I'm doing…"

"Don't say that… That's not true—"

"Yes it is!" Solace exploded, suddenly pushing him away and covering her face. "I-I mean, it was bad enough I wasn't a match for him in a fight… But then I had to end up making a deal with him? What kind of hero has to bargain with the bad guy? I basically promised him I'd look the other way while he committed a robbery." She lowered her hands, and her eyes were red and puffy with tears. The bruises on her face suddenly looked a lot more obvious, too. "I'm a horrible hero. I thought that… you know, since I had these abilities… I ought to try and use them for something more than just cheering up people. I wanted to save Alec… and keep the city safe. But I couldn't do either of those things… I mean, not without your help…"

Bucky sighed and moved towards her, taking both of her wrists in his hands and pulling them away from her face. He kissed her forehead before speaking against it. "Listen… maybe you _weren't_ ready to take on someone like Crossbones," he said. "But you at least tried. You told me that you believed those who have the means to help others should, and… I believed you. That's why I went out to try and find Alec, too. I thought I was the only person in the city capable of standing up to that guy, and even though it was risky… I decided that I had to do it."

Solace seemed startled by the admission, enough that her tears subsided again. Bucky let go of her so she could wipe her eyes with the bottom of her t-shirt. "You did it because… it was the right thing to do?" she asked.

The question made him chuckle, and he shook his head. "No… I don't really care about that," he said. "It wasn't to make the city safer for everyone, or anything like that. I did it because of you. That's it. I just wanted to see you smile again."

She looked a little mystified at his reasoning at first. But as she let her eyes roam over him again, taking in the sight of his broken, battered body and his cybernetic arm, she seemed to finally understand. "…That's enough of a reason, then," she relented, touching his arm in what felt like a pitying gesture.

Bucky took her gaze and the tone of her voice and the attempt at consoling him all as signs that she was disappointed, and he sighed. He didn't blame her, of course. She thought he was her hero, but if he'd ever had naïve dreams of saving the world, they'd died along with Bucky Barnes's old life back in 1945.

"I'm sorry it's not much," he said, quietly, just a breath above ashamed.

He expected Solace to give him a sad look, or maybe a disappointed one, or at the very most, sigh deeply over his self-depreciation again. What she did was none of those things; instead, a look of shock flashed across her face, before her eyes narrowed. She reached up and grabbed his face, her fingers tangling in the long strands of his hair and tugging on them firmly. Bucky gasped, somewhat in discomfort, but he was mostly shocked at her sudden aggression, and found himself gazing into her fierce eyes.

"I wish you could see what I see," she whispered, holding his face steady while she brushed her thumbs gently over the bruises and stubble on his cheeks. "I don't like it when you say things like that."

Bucky's gaze tried to dart away, but her fingers tightened in his hair, and he winced and looked back at her. She obviously was serious, and didn't want him to escape her gaze just because he was taller than her. "I-I know," he mumbled, embarrassed, "but it's just… I'm not the hero you want me to be."

"I don't want you to _be_ anything. And you don't have to live up to my expectations," Solace replied, her expression softening. "I just want you to be you."

He shook his head against her, despite her assurances. "That's not good enough," he said, bitterly. He didn't understand how she could possibly accept the Winter Soldier for all that he was, or how she could gloss over his past so easily. "You deserve—"

"I _deserve_ nothing," she snapped, a hint of fury in her expression again. "What I _want_ is what you choose to give me. And you've given me everything you can. That's all I need, because I know you're not holding back, not anymore—"

"I'm not," Bucky said, with more than a hint of desperation. "I'm really not. I just wish we…" He clenched his jaw hard, against the wave of sentiment he knew was building in his chest.

 _I wish we could have more time together._

"I-I don't want to leave you, Solace… I can't. I don't think I can do this…"

She pulled him even closer, so that their foreheads were touching. He was so close that he could feel the tears brimming in her eyes, and her shuddering breath light on his lips.

"Don't be afraid," she whispered, and this time, there was no hint of her power in her voice, no fuzzy, pleasant feeling in the back of his mind when she spoke. It made him tear up too, because he realized everything he felt for her now was the same as everything he had ever felt since they'd met. Her power had nothing to do with him falling for her.

Solace stroked his cheeks and pressed her lips to his, feather-soft and gentle. "It doesn't matter what happens next," she assured him. "Where we go, what we do… I don't care about any of that right now. Just… look at me. Tell me we're going to be ok."

Bucky didn't know if he believed it himself, but he wanted to. In that moment, he wanted so badly to believe it. "We're going to be ok," he breathed.

"That's right," she smiled, sniffing back her tears. "You know why? Because we're here right now, we're alive, we're together, a-and God, Bucky—I love you. I'm so sorry I never said it before…"

His eyes squeezed shut at the words, a last weak attempt to defend himself against sentiment, but then he felt her hands on the back of his head, guiding him into a kiss he never realized he needed until now. His hands rested on her hips, keeping her close, but Solace was the one who pulled him in and took his breath away. She kissed him with equal parts passion and desperation, a sadness just at the edges of her excitement, and finally he could welcome it without hesitating.

"Don't be sorry," he panted, tearing himself away from the warmth of Solace's mouth just for a second. "You know I love you too."

Bucky wondered if her heart felt as full as his did, at the realization that finally— _finally_ —their feelings were out in the open. He'd finally told her to her face that he loved her. She had told him, tearfully, that she felt the same. He wasn't sure what he expected to happen after that; he had the sense, perhaps from old movies, that she would swoon emotionally into his arms, he would kiss her, joyous music would play in the background, and everything would turn out just fine.

But certainly none of those things occurred, save for Solace giving him a tearfully elated smile and pulling him in for another kiss. He couldn't hear anything but their heavy breathing, the soft sound of their lips parting in between kisses. The firmness of her hand on the back of his head and the way her other hand clung tight to his shoulder gave him a heady feeling, making _him_ feel like the weaker of the two. And as she guided him closer, pulling him in for more, he felt how his lip stung when she nipped it playfully, only to recoil in surprise as they both tasted copper; she'd accidentally reopened a wound where he'd been punched in the mouth during the fight.

"Sorry," Solace whispered, laughing nervously.

Bucky laughed as well, pulling her close. "It's ok," he assured gently, hiding a wide smile.

Whatever he had thought would happen… this was far better.

 _I regret_ _nothing_ _._

* * *

 _Translations:_

 _(1) Mашина Промывание Мозгов [Mashina Promivaniye Mozgov] – "Memory Suppression Machine"_

* * *

 _And finally we figure out what was going on throughout the story with Crossbones, Alec, and Solace. :)_

 _Unfortunately, it seems we're coming down to the last few chapters of this fanfic! As always, I am super honored and happy that so many of you have been reading, reviewing, and following it. Please feel free to review with any thoughts you have, and I hope you will continue to enjoy the rest of the story!_

 _Bit of a spoiler—the next chapter is going to have some mature content, so I'm bumping the rating of this story up accordingly with the next update. Please keep that in mind!_

 _Thank you again~_


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Notes:_ _Rating for this story has now been bumped up to M, due to sexual content in this chapter. The scene is not filthy or overly graphic; I do try to keep it tasteful and romantic. But it is still mature in nature, so please be aware before proceeding. Thank you for understanding!_

 _ **Chapter 12**_

Bucky thought it was interesting, how the heat of the moment could ebb and flow so quickly, so easily. It felt like kissing Solace could last forever if he only let it, yet it was only the space of several minutes, ending with them awkwardly laughing at themselves.

"I wasn't supposed to love you so easily," Solace murmured, touching his face affectionately before reluctantly pulling away.

"I know," Bucky said, watching as she distracted herself by rolling up the blueprints on the table and stuffing them a little too hastily back into the poster tube. "I'm sorry."

Solace rolled her eyes. "Whatever for? Being lovable?"

He grinned. "No." Before Solace could wander away again—she seemed to have her eye on the kitchen, though he wanted to point out that there was no point to washing his dishes if he wasn't going to stick around—he had crept up behind her and gathered her tightly in his arms. She squealed in surprise and giggled as he picked her up and kissed the back of her neck roughly. "I just hope it wasn't… too fast."

"Hmm." Solace wiggled in his arms until he let her go, and she seemed to be thoughtful about it. "No, I… don't think so. Maybe a little. But I don't think you get to choose that."

The two gathered up their things from the dining room and migrated to the bedroom. Ostensibly, it was to relax together, but it ended up being both of them sorting through their own belongings. Solace, seated on top of the bed, appeared interested in turning out the inside of her backpack and looking around for something, while Bucky decided to seat himself on the floor with his back to the wall, trying to determine if there was anything he still wanted to pack.

The two large, black cases he'd stolen from his handlers were still open next to him, and he devoted a bit of time to deciding what he wanted to keep and what he could leave. He figured authorities would realize the Winter Soldier was in the area one way or another, and abandoning his apartment would only confirm that once they analyzed everything inside it. He decided he would leave his knife, along with his bloodied uniform. He was done with all that. The Winter Soldier had served whatever purpose he'd had left, and now he could leave that behind, too.

"Sure you don't want to sit on the bed?" Solace questioned, looking up from where she'd been checking through a small toiletries bag she'd brought. "You're still hurt."

"I'm fine," Bucky assured, not looking up. He shut one of the black cases and pushed it across the room, turning his attention to the next one. It was empty save for the small lockbox inside. He picked it up and studied it with trepidation; the lock on it had already been broken off when he first ventured to look inside. It opened easily, and he studied what few items were within. There might have been more items in it originally, but if they'd been removed by his handlers, they were probably lost or seized by investigators by now.

He heard a small thump, and suddenly Solace was on the floor with him, deliberately crawling over his legs. "Do you have an outlet over here?" she asked, flashing him a playful smile. "Gotta charge this." She waved a small device in her hand at him, and it took him a moment to recognize it was a pink MP3 player, with the headphones tangled around it and the charger cable already plugged into the bottom. She held some other device in her other hand that he couldn't immediately identify.

Bucky smirked and shifted his position to reveal one next to him. "Have at it, kitten."

She was only too happy to sidle up alongside him, snuggling against his right arm while plugging her MP3 player into the wall outlet. Once it was charging, she set down the item in her other hand on the floor and began selecting options on the screen of her MP3 player; Bucky stared at her curiously until he heard the pill-shaped, mysterious device beginning to play music. He gave her a questioning look.

Solace grinned at him. "Weird, huh?" she said, and suddenly Bucky was grateful she wasn't going to tease him for being ignorant. "It's one of those little Bluetooth speakers. Jasc bought me this pink one for my birthday a couple months ago. I thought we could at least listen to some music instead of sitting in silence. Hope you like my taste in music!"

Bucky tilted his head at the slow tune currently playing, and shrugged. It seemed soothing and upbeat, and that was really all he was concerned about at the moment. "I'm sure it's fine," he assured, before his eyes dipped back into the lockbox. "Didn't you say music helps you focus your powers?"

"Oh, yeah. I tend to build up a lot of negative energy throughout the day and unless I use my powers on something, it'll just… stay bottled up inside me and start giving me headaches and making me sick. And really grumpy." She shot him an embarrassed smile before resting her head on his arm. "The more negative energy I take in… the more it starts to affect my mood too. But, I figured out that listening to music helps alleviate that. The energy seems to just… evaporate and go away. And if I actually focus on a particular song and sing, I can use that rhythm to focus my powers better, too. Amplify them, almost. Though I haven't really… tried that out much. I'm embarrassed to sing in front of people."

"Oh, I'm sure you're great," Bucky said. He recalled how shy she had been to dance with him the other night on their date, and he figured she was equally shy about singing, too.

Solace kissed him on the cheek sweetly. "Maybe," she cooed, before she looked down at the box in his hands as well. He knew there was no point in trying to hide it from her, or quelling her curiosity once it was piqued. "What's that, if I may ask?"

Their cheeks touched affectionately, and he leaned into her for comfort. "Well," he began, unsure of how to broach yet another uncomfortable subject. He had hoped to put that behind them for the evening. "In HYDRA, I had a set of 'handlers,' who were trained on how to bring the Winter Soldier out of cryostasis, program instructions for missions into him, and generally just… keep him under control by whatever means necessary."

Solace's eyes narrowed at the grim topic, but she nodded, determined to accept whatever darkness he still had left to reveal. "I see."

"I guess me… remembering things from time to time was not uncommon. Normally they'd end up wiping those memories away with that… machine at the end of it. But sometimes… if it suited their purpose, they'd actually… encourage a particular sensation or feeling. Manipulate it to their advantage."

"R-Really? How do you know? I thought you didn't… remember anything," Solace replied, surprised.

"I didn't… not until I opened this box. They always kept it on hand wherever we went for missions," Bucky explained. He shifted the lockbox over to her, so she could hold it in her lap instead. "It's not much, and they would rarely use them, but seeing some of the things reminded me of times when they'd play up an emotion to their advantage. They'd still keep me from remembering… but they'd manipulate how I responded to these items and use that to get me to do what they wanted. I guess… it was sometimes more effective than simply forcing me to obey with that machine."

She shook her head at the thought. "I can't believe they would take advantage of your memories, too," she muttered, her voice full of annoyance. "As if erasing them all the time wasn't enough."

Bucky kissed her head soothingly, watching as she pulled out a folder and opened it. It was a copy of his HYDRA file, though it was not the full file; that was, as far as he knew, still in Russia somewhere. Inside the folder were several sheets of paper, documenting observations, vital signs, and mission updates recorded from the Winter Soldier during his time in Washington, D.C. Another sheet stapled to the left-hand side of the folder had basic information about their subject, much of it written in Russian. There were also two photographs paper-clipped neatly to the file; one was a picture of Bucky before they had taken him out of his cryogenic chamber back in Siberia, just before they left for the United States. His eyes were closed and his face obscured by the frozen glass. The second was taken of him in his full battle gear, right before he had been sent on his mission to assassinate Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff; the picture had him in profile, coldly gazing down the sight of his assault rifle before deeming the weapon acceptable.

Solace let her fingers trace over each picture thoughtfully, before closing the file and handing it over to him. Bucky set it aside without another glance, instead patiently waiting for her to reach into the box and look through the few items inside. She next pulled out an old photo, and her eyebrows rose in surprise. "This is…?"

Bucky stared at it, a sense of apprehension filling him as he took in the image. "Me? Yeah."

It was an old, sepia-toned photograph of a younger Bucky Barnes in a military uniform, clean-shaven and smiling brightly as he stood alongside an equally well-dressed Steve Rogers. The two appeared to have been at some USO function during the war. Solace seemed mystified by the uncharacteristic brightness in Bucky's eyes, and lifted it close to study the image. "You and… Captain America," she realized, with a smile. "You two look so happy."

"I don't remember what we were doing," he admitted. "Maybe we had some time off?"

Solace shrugged, not knowing any better than he did. She also seemed baffled at how HYDRA obtained such a photo, and what they could have used it for in Bucky's manipulation. Maybe they would use it to spark a memory of a happier time, and trick him into believing he could keep that memory again if he _just killed the target_. Or maybe his handlers would lie and say they had Steve hostage, and if Bucky didn't do what they said…

Bucky couldn't remember what they might have said or done, but he really wouldn't put any of these scenarios past them. It didn't really matter what means they chose, anyway—the Memory Suppression Machine would reset him after the mission was complete. The echoes of their torture would remain, but the memories, at least, would not. They could use the picture again in the future and he'd be shocked and emotionally disturbed by it all over again.

With a sigh, Solace passed the photo to him. "Keep that in your book," she instructed, and it took Bucky a moment to remember his current notebook. "I think that's a good one."

He nodded quickly and glanced at the photograph before setting it aside, forcing himself not to become anxious looking at his own image. The Bucky Barnes that barely resembled who he was anymore. He could only wish he was that dashing, proud-looking young man again, who fought diligently and expected his worst fate would be to die fighting Nazis. He probably never imagined what his real destiny ultimately was.

"Nothing else in here," Solace exclaimed, and Bucky looked over to see she had practically stuck her head into the box. He tried to hide a snicker. "Just one thing more—ok, here!" She sat up straight again, and dangling from her hand was a long beaded chain with a pair of dog tags that clinked together. She set the empty box aside and held up the tags to read them; Bucky read them silently right alongside her. _James B Barnes, 32557038, T42 43 A, P._

"Your… dog tags from the war?" Solace realized, looking up at Bucky with an awed expression. "That's… really cool! Authentic World War II tags!"

He chuckled at her enthusiasm, wondering if she'd be just as enthralled if there had been an authentic WWII era pistol in the box as well, or maybe a U.S. military medal or patch from the time period. "Yes, ma'am. In case you doubted my credentials."

She swatted him playfully. "Baby, if I haven't doubted your entire background up to this point, I don't think I'm going to get hung up on the idea of you being a military man," she teased. "Besides, I love a man in uniform."

Bucky shook his head in disbelief at her. There was nothing about him she wouldn't find a silver lining to.

"Here you go, sweet thing," Solace continued happily, sitting up on her knees and holding up the dog tags. He obligingly dipped his head so she could place the chain around his neck, and she smiled. "So… your name really is James," she teased. "Was Bucky really your nickname back then, too?"

"Yeah, as far as I can tell. I remember being called Bucky more than I do my real name."

"That's funny," she replied, though her words were filled with warmth and understanding. "You know… Solace isn't really my real name either. I mean… it is. It's my middle name. But my real name is Sara Morgan. I've just… been going by an alias. Ever since SHIELD fell apart, I've been worried HYDRA agents might find me in their records and try to track me down for their own ends."

Bucky frowned, feeling bad for her predicament; she hadn't even become a real agent of SHIELD yet, and her life was still disrupted by the events of Washington, D.C. "I see," he said, turning over her real name in his head. "Sara, huh? I like it. I always thought that was a pretty name."

She smiled, blushing just a little, and kissed his cheek. "James is nice too," she offered.

"Now you're just saying that," he retorted, glancing down at his dog tags where they hung against his chest. The sight of them gave him an oddly empowered sort of feeling, a sense of pride that he could not quite place. Yet at the same time, his mind went back to images of a lab, being trapped and delirious and helpless. All he could do was recite his personal information until it became a mantra against the pain and horror. _Sergeant James Barnes, 32557038, 107_ _th_ _Infantry Regiment, U.S. Army. Sergeant James Barnes, 32557038, 107_ _th_ _Infantry Regiment, U.S. Army. Sergeant… Barnes… 32557…_

Solace interrupted him by kissing his lips firmly, and only then did Bucky realize he was mouthing the words silently.

"Are you ok?" she whispered, pulling away.

"Y-Yeah."

The two were quiet for several moments, and Bucky was suddenly grateful there was nothing left in the lockbox. He didn't like forcing all this on her. He kept drowning in memories, over and over, and Solace had to keep pulling him back. She was probably just as exhausted as he was.

"I love you," he whispered, his face creasing with sadness. "I'm sorry I do this to you."

Solace stared at him, silently. Whatever joy had been left in her face had faded, leaving only pain in her beautiful brown eyes.

"If it meant you could stay," she said, quietly, "I would take it. Every day, if I had to."

The words were like a knife in his heart. Bucky cringed, his jaw tightening so hard it hurt. "Don't say that…" he began, but it was not enough to stop the tears from spilling down Solace's face.

"Bucky, I… I don't want you to leave," she whimpered, covering her face and muffling her sadness into her hands. "I know I said we'll be ok, but… I-I don't know if I can trust myself to believe that. I _want_ us to be ok. I really do. I know why you have to go, b-but… I can't bear it. I wish you'd just leave in the middle of the night so I wouldn't have to force myself to say goodb—" A sob cut through her words, and her whole body heaved with the pain; Bucky immediately grabbed both her shoulders and pulled her against him before she collapsed. She cried, hard, and he gripped at her delicate frame as if he were the only person capable of keeping her held together.

"Solace… please… don't…" he begged, swallowing hard to keep his own tears at bay. But he had no words of comfort, no empty sentiments to throw at the looming reality of the situation. He could delay their parting if he wanted, but he could not be so selfish as to simply stay. He cared about her far too much to put her in danger, or subject her to the judgment of authorities; aiding the Winter Soldier was almost certainly a crime, too. Or maybe they'd be more interested in her powers, and wish to study or cultivate them for their own uses. In the end, they'd still tear them apart either way, and then she'd be alone _and_ without her freedom.

Bucky couldn't do that to her. This vibrant angel who always smiled and found something to love in him could not be subjected to such a thing. And perhaps, in return, Solace wanted the same consideration for him. She would rather give up the man she loved if it meant he could be free, instead of imprisoned for the crimes she knew were not really his fault.

"I-I'm sorry," she cried softly, hiding her face against his shoulder. "I don't really want you to just… go. I love you. I'll be here for you as long as you need me. I'm just… being selfish…"

"Shh. Stop," he scolded, pressing a firm kiss into the curve of her neck. "If you're being selfish, then so am I. I want to stay too, Solace. I want to spend every day just holding on to you, and listening to you laugh, and seeing you smile, and feeling like for once… I matter. That I don't just ruin every life I touch, and I'm not just the weapon they wanted me to be. I don't want to be their soldier…"

Bucky pulled back, just as Solace lifted her head to stare at him. The sight of her eyes, wide with wonder, was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"…I want to be yours."

Solace visibly gasped. Perhaps she didn't expect Bucky to want such a thing, to submit to someone else after only just getting used to the freedom he'd obtained. But what was freedom without purpose? Ever since the Winter Soldier had been turned loose, left alone to fend for himself, Bucky had only thought to shore up his defenses. To protect himself long enough to reclaim his past, no matter what the cost. But running and hiding was so exhausting. He'd been fighting every single day he could possibly remember, and maybe now… he just needed someone to fight for him. To protect him when he couldn't lift his limbs to defend himself. He wanted to sleep without fear, and breathe without trembling, and finally just… trust someone.

"Bucky…" Solace's voice was a soft whine of disbelief. "Baby… why me?"

He smiled sadly, and looked down to examine himself. The scarred, broken, injured body that she didn't shy away from, despite what it had been forged into over the years. "Why _me_?" he countered, simply.

The tears welled up in her eyes again, but Solace did not cry this time. She instead shifted to crawl into his lap, straddling him so she could look into his eyes. She placed her hands on his shoulders, firmly pushing his back against the wall, keeping him at arm's length while she took in the sight of him. Bucky had to force back a brief impulse of fear, not liking his helpless position. Instead, he reminded himself how badly he wanted to trust her, that giving in to this woman was what he wanted all along.

"Tell me what you want," he said, his voice low and his heart pounding hard. "Whatever it is, you can have it."

Solace studied him for a few moments, before she lowered her face to his and kissed him, tenderly. A thrill of excitement ran through him, both at the taste of her mouth and the way her fingers raked down his chest. Her touching him was not unfamiliar anymore, but the assertiveness in the way she gripped at him carried a note of something new, something that took his breath away, even from such a subtle gesture.

"All I want is for you to be happy," she told him. "Even if it's just for one day, one hour, one minute… I want you to just… forget all that pain. Forget the Winter Soldier, forget leaving tomorrow, forget all of it. If you want to be mine, then let me take all that away. If that's the only thing I can do for you… let me do it."

Bucky nodded quickly; after all, he knew he was powerless against her affection, against the feelings that had been steadily building in him over the last two and a half months. He loved how kind and intelligent and strong Solace was, certainly, but another part of him craved the rest of her. The passion in her eyes, the gentle aggression in her touch, and the beauty that he saw in every passing glance at her was sometimes just too much for him, and he'd finally had enough of holding back. He reached up to tentatively brush his thumb over her cheek, before letting his finger trace down her neck and along the v-line of her shirt. He could see the color in her face and how she trembled in response.

"You sure you're ok with this, kitten?" he asked, trying not to sound as awkward as he felt.

Solace visibly swallowed, but she managed a timid smile and nodded. Her eyes lowered to observe his fingers, still hovering on the low cut of her shirt, and she reached up to grab his wrist. She guided him to push the fabric aside, and Bucky got a momentary glimpse of the pastel pink bra underneath. His eyes flickered back up to stare at her as his fingers slid past even this barrier, and he watched her gasp when he brushed over the sensitive skin underneath. The response on her face was exhilarating, and judging by the way she shifted in his lap, she could tell he liked it, too.

"Be nice to me, soldier," she said, attempting to tease, but she wasn't smiling when she said it. He could tell she was uneasy. Maybe she'd never done this before. Bucky realized he'd never asked about her experience with relationships. But it didn't really matter; none of that mattered now. All he knew was that he wanted her to be happy, too.

"Always," he whispered, pressing a kiss into her neck and letting his arms wrap around her.

At first, Bucky thought he liked everything about Solace already. They were still at a point in their relationship where he felt butterflies in his stomach just by looking at her, and his eyes were still drawn to the curves of her breasts and hips, his imagination wandering despite his best efforts. But he soon found he knew so very little about her after all, and every discovery was something new to love.

For instance, he loved the way her legs hooked around his waist when he picked her up and carried her across the room, and how disheveled her hair looked when he tossed her on top of his bed.

He loved the way she carelessly kicked her things off the bed, making room for the two of them, and the eager look in her eyes when he climbed on top of her.

Bucky especially loved how easy it was to make her voice change. How she could go from a sultry, playful coo in his ear, to a high-pitched, nearly shocked cry whenever he touched her just right, whenever his teeth grazed her skin, whenever his hands roamed where she'd never let them go before. He loved how obviously excited she already was, and how easily she let him pull her clothing off. He did not, unfortunately, love how complicated her bra was, or how he had to pause and give her a frustrated glare when he couldn't figure out how to unhook it from her body. He also wasn't particularly fond of the way she giggled at him as she made it look so easy to remove, but Bucky decided he could forgive her—her panties came off much faster, after all, and she certainly wasn't giggling anymore when he dipped his head down low to taste her.

It somehow felt a little selfish, pleasuring a woman. Even if he was the one doing all the work, giving her all the gratification, and she was simply laying there, writhing beautifully under him, there was still so much to be satisfied with. The way she moaned his name in broken, needy breaths, the way she tugged on his hair, the way he felt in complete possession of her when she arched her back sharply and wailed as she came—he loved all of it. But most of all, he loved the exhausted, blissful look on her face, and how her dazed eyes followed his movements when he sat up, wiped his mouth, and began to remove the rest of his clothing. Even if she was still reeling, still shivering from what he had done to her, he could see the lust in her gaze and the weak smile on her lips while she watched him undress. He would have been self-conscious if he wasn't so aroused; Bucky never wanted to be selfish with her, but he could only take so much before he caved into his own needs.

Fortunately, Solace seemed to sense the urgency in his movements as well. She welcomed him back when he moved on top of her again, and the heat of her body was nearly searing as he placed grateful kisses on every inch of skin he could reach. Bucky shifted his weight to brace himself primarily on his left arm, leaving his other one free to explore the curves of her body. His thumb brushed gingerly over the bandages still wrapped around her left shoulder, before he ran his hand lovingly down her side and across her hip, to gently push her legs apart.

" _Oh,_ " Solace gasped, feeling him press against her thigh. She glanced down at the space between them, and the uncertainty in her eyes made him hesitate. But after a moment, she inhaled, slowly, letting her gaze travel up to meet his again. She must have seen the concern in his face, for she managed a small smile and shook her head. "Don't stop," she whispered.

Bucky stared at her, torn, wanting to move, but not wanting to look away from the _absolutely beautiful_ expression of surrender in her face. But Solace gave him no room to think; she was reaching for him, pulling him into a kiss and into her warmth. He _thought_ he felt her cry out in surprise when he finally moved, but if she did, he couldn't hear it for the sound of his own deep, startled groan, muffled against the wetness of her mouth.

Helpless, Bucky dug his fingers hard into the bedsheets, feeling every fiber of her tense around him. The sensation was brief, yet powerful, and it touched off a torrent of pleasure that threatened to drown him, even as he was frantically trying to figure out how to slow this down. She whined under him in discomfort, and they had to spend a few moments adjusting, shifting, trying to discover what worked. He tried his hardest not to push any closer to her until she reached up to grab his dog tags, dangling haphazardly in the space between them. She tugged on the chain and he obediently followed; their lips brushed and he could taste the tiniest hint of her smile.

"I'm ok," she said, grazing her tongue over his lower lip possessively, eliciting a sharp gasp from him. "Go ahead."

Their initial grinding was strange, awkward—hardly unexpected for their first time together—but, as Bucky grew bolder and his movements more deliberate, Solace seemed to relax more and more. Her face softened from an uncomfortable expression to one clouded with pleasure, and the sight of it only fueled his own excitement.

Did she know how good she felt? Did she know how _desperately_ he needed this? Bucky wished he could voice all his feelings to her then, but he was too busy moaning, too busy fishing for his release, to muster the words. She'd forgive him, right? She'd understand if he could barely remember his own name, much less how to tell her she was the most beautiful thing to ever happen to him.

Solace wrapped her legs around his waist suddenly, and he nearly choked on the unexpected new angle, seeing stars at the corners of his vision. One of her hands reached up to grab his left arm, bracing herself against the only sturdy thing within reach, the only thing not hot and damp and trembling with the friction between their two bodies. Her other hand slid up his back, pulling him close, so he could hear her voice even over the deafening sound of his own heartbeat.

"Please," she begged, and he was almost alarmed at the sheer desperation and loss of control in her voice. " _Bucky_ —"

He lost himself in her plea, driving into her harder and trying hard not to bruise their hips together in his building passion. He could feel himself just on the edge of his release, wavering between his own desire and the need to see her satisfied. But it wasn't until he felt her come a second time, her nails digging into his shoulder and a broken sob of pleasure tumbling out of her, that Bucky finally let himself fall apart. He buried his face in her neck, crying out her name, until the searing heat was nothing but a white hot blur that overtook his mind, culminating in one final word, one perfect summation of everything this was and ever would be to him.

 _Solace._

* * *

 _Your first time isn't perfect, but it's pretty close when it's with the one you love._

 _The description on Bucky's dog tags is taken from an actual replica set I own; there were a few different dog tag formats for the Army during World War II, but Bucky's particular set is formatted with his name, Army serial number, valid years for his tetanus shot, blood type, and religion. Some of the details were probably invented by whoever produced the tags, but the serial number is accurate to what Bucky was reciting during_ _Captain America: The First Avenger_ _(with additional digits to make it a valid serial number length)._

 _It's admittedly a little strange to have their real names get introduced so late in their story; I had them discuss it about two chapters ago originally, but when I edited the story afterward, I had to move some stuff around to avoid redundancy. So the name explanations got moved here. Apologies if it seems weird. xD_

 _Thank you all again for continuing to support the story! I appreciate all your reviews, follows, and faves! Please consider reviewing, and I'll see you again next week~_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Chapter 13**_

If Bucky closed his eyes tight enough and ignored the crisp morning air, he could pretend that he was still in bed, surrounded by Solace's warmth. That they were still entangled lightly in one another, hazy with sleep and memories of the night before. That he had abandoned his notions of leaving her behind, wrapped his arms around her tighter, and promised she would never have to cry over him, ever again.

Except of course, that wasn't the case. Bucky wouldn't allow it, and neither would the soldier.

Exhaling a sigh, he pushed his face closer into the back of Solace's neck, arms sliding around her in a tight hug. Her hair was still a little damp, and her scent had all but disappeared under the crispness of his borrowed soap. They'd showered together that morning, and more than anything right now, Bucky wished they were still there. There was something preciously intimate in the way they held each other under the rush of water, staring deeply into one another's eyes with silent, fierce intensity. Nothing between them, save for their affection and their knowledge of the inevitable.

Solace stirred against him, impatient with the quiet between them. Even wearing a thick woolen coat, she still looked like she was shivering from the cold. "You'll be warm enough, won't you?" she asked.

Bucky smiled weakly at her concern. If he could handle cryogenic freezing and intense training in Siberia, he was certain a chilly morning in Philadelphia wouldn't faze him. "I'll be fine, beautiful," he soothed.

The two stood together on the street corner, the very place where they'd first met. They were just several yards to the left of where they usually waited for the bus; Bucky tried hard to ignore the section of sidewalk there cordoned off with yellow police tape. A dark brown stain had since permeated into the concrete.

He didn't really like the awkward silence. Their last moments together, and they could think of nothing to say to one another. But he knew Solace was probably hurting as much as he was, too preoccupied with trying to brace herself for the sadness to come. He rested his chin on her head and tried to draw both their attentions elsewhere.

"We're clear on the plan, right?" he asked, glancing down the street again, at some spot beyond the illumination of street lamps. The sun was only just starting to rise, but the morning was so overcast and gloomy that everything was obscured in grey-blue light.

Solace stirred, as if processing the question suddenly got her blood pumping again. She nodded and patted the purse hanging from her shoulder. "I have your apartment keys, and I'll be taking care of any last minute items still in there," she assured.

"Don't worry about my things," Bucky reminded, sternly. "I don't need you getting in trouble for possessing them. If they find the apartment abandoned, they'll probably figure out it was mine anyway. Just make sure _you're_ not traceable."

She breathed an annoyed sigh, obviously not fond of him lecturing her, but nodded her understanding. "Don't worry about it. I can handle it."

Bucky had to remind himself that she was once trained by SHIELD and would have been qualified to join their ranks. She could do this. He kissed her neck lovingly and mused over his own half of the plan.

"You're heading to New Jersey, right?" Solace questioned, tilting her head back so she could look at him. "Anywhere in particular?"

He shook his head. "Not really. To be honest, I figured I might keep going to New York once I get my bearings. Try to figure out where I came from, you know?" he explained. "I guess I'll make it up as I go."

The plan seemed like a good idea in his head earlier that morning, but saying it out loud now seemed hollow. Why was he pursuing this? Why was he running away from the people he cared about? Bucky knew he wanted to regain his memories, and yet… he'd already abandoned Steve, despite him being the one link to his past life. Now he was leaving Solace, the only person he knew that could put up with his mental quirks, his broken thoughts, and his overwhelming past. Why couldn't he stop running and stay with the people who could help him?

 _Cause I love them way too much._

The emotion rose in Bucky's throat for a brief moment, but it quickly went away when he felt Solace squirming in his arms. She appeared to be digging through her purse.

"What are you looking for, kitten?" he questioned, trying to get a peek of what she was doing.

Solace flashed him a small smile before turning her attention downwards again. She finally pulled out her MP3 player, by now a familiar sight to Bucky. From the very moment he'd laid eyes on her, he knew she loved listening to her music. He watched her tug on it in annoyance, trying to dislodge the earbuds and charger from where they were tangled in her keys, before lifting it up and showing it to him.

"Remember this, baby?" she cooed, pushing a few buttons on the MP3 player. A picture appeared on the screen, and Bucky was intrigued to see that she had uploaded one of the photos from their date together. He had a copy of this photo in his notebook already, but it was nice to see it again all the same. The two of them happily holding one another, breathless from their impromptu dance, smiling so widely. Leaving one another had been the last thing on their minds then.

"Of course I do," he murmured, his eyes growing sad for a moment.

"I thought I'd upload all the photos I had of us onto this." Solace turned off the player, before wrapping the cords around it again. She then turned around to face Bucky and held it out to him. "I want you to take it with you."

Bucky automatically held out his hand to accept the MP3 player, even while he shook his head. "What? No!" he protested, watching as she pressed the gift into his hand and wrapped his fingers around it. "This… this is yours. I know how important your music is to you. I don't need you to—"

"Shush, you," she scolded gently. "It's _because_ my music is important to me that I want you to have it. It's always been really personal to me… and now that you're part of my life, I want to share it with you. You can keep a piece of me with you no matter where you are."

"Solace… I can't take that away from you…"

"Oh stop. You're not _really_ taking my music away," she assured, kissing his hand where he lifted it to touch her face. "The digital age is nice for that. I have all the music on my computer; I'll just get a new MP3 player later and copy it over. What's important is that _you_ have it."

Bucky bit his lip, trying to hide the sudden rush of emotion that filled him. He knew just how precious her music was to her. That she wanted to give it to him—freely, without reservation—made his heart ache with affection.

"…Thank you," he whispered, staring warmly into her eyes. "I'll treasure it—really, I will." He pressed the device to his lips, kissing it fiercely, before he tucked it into his pocket. The weight of it there felt comforting somehow, but it also gnawed at him, making him feel a little guilty. He couldn't just… accept such an important gift without giving her something in return. Solace would probably tell him it wasn't necessary, or that he gave her plenty already, but Bucky knew that wasn't true. He hadn't even bought her anything in the whole time they'd known each other, outside of dinner. That he would leave her now without giving her anything would be unbearable. What kind of a boyfriend would he be?

"Solace…" He gnawed on his lip, trying to figure out what to do, when an idea suddenly came to him. There was a glint in her eyes that reminded him of her enthusiasm the night before, and he knew exactly what she might like.

The rush of excitement caused him to let go of Solace suddenly, startling her. She turned around to watch as he dropped his backpack to the sidewalk and pulled open his jacket, fumbling for something under his shirt. He shot her a quick glance, just to see the confused look on her face. "What are you doing?" she asked, uncertainly.

Bucky finally managed to get his fingers around the beaded chain around his neck, and pulled out his dog tags; he'd been wearing them since Solace had put them on him the night before. He carefully took them off and looked at them for a moment, before holding them out to Solace. "I can't just… take a piece of you without giving you a piece of me in return," he explained. "So, here. I know you really liked them when you saw them."

Solace visibly gasped as she took the dog tags from him. She examined how the tags were oriented before carefully placing them around her neck; Bucky had to bite back a snicker when he saw the tags hung almost to her belly button.

"Baby, this is… really sweet of you," she said, obviously enamored with the gift. "Thank you. But… are you sure you want me to take these? They _are_ a piece of your past. Don't you want them to help you remember…?"

He shook his head and pulled her back into his arms again, kissing her cheeks. "Nah, beautiful," he assured, smiling as he felt her burrow under his jacket and press close to his body. "I don't need them to remember who I am. I may not have all my memories, but… I… I trust Steve. He…" Bucky had to stop for a moment, feeling his chest tighten at the thought of his friend. He hadn't really spoken of Steve to Solace all that much, aside from revealing that he and Captain America had grown up together and known one another decades ago. But Bucky needed her to understand just how important he also was.

Solace seemed to understand what he was struggling to say, even before he said it. "He's your friend," she said, gently.

Bucky nodded. "He nearly died trying to get me to remember," he explained. "But I have to believe what he said about me."

She nodded against him and stepped back, just a little, so she could gaze up at him. Her smile was warm, accepting, but tinged with a bit of sadness. "You're Bucky Barnes. You were friends with Steve Rogers. HYDRA hurt you, but… you can put that behind you now. What they made you doesn't have to determine where you go from here."

His hands brushed down her back, before he brought his left hand up to touch the chain around her neck. He tugged on them gently as he studied the tags for the last time. _James Buchanan Barnes. I can remember that. I can remember me. If Solace and Steve think I'm worth remembering… then all of this isn't for nothing. I'll figure everything out, and then I'll be able to come back to them without being afraid of myself anymore._

"Thank you for believing in me too, Solace. For making me happy," Bucky said, staring deeply into her eyes. Even if his past memories ended up being fleeting, he knew this face was one he wanted to hold onto forever. "…I love you."

"I… I love you too, Bucky."

His hands reached out, fingers combing through damp hair and pulling her into his embrace. His lips met hers, trembling, wet, and hungry for whatever last moments of comfort he could take from her. And Solace, as always, gave him all she could. They kissed over and over, deep and needy, just like they had their first time. Bucky felt his thoughts swim and his heart swell, filled with nothing but his desire for her and everything she was to him.

From down the street, the familiar sound of squealing brakes reached their ears, and Solace recoiled a little. Bucky gritted his teeth, knowing without looking that the bus was coming.

Solace looked up at him, her expression full of desperation, and Bucky tried to force a smile for her. "…It's going to be ok, kitten," he whispered. "Remember?"

She nodded, but her hands still gripped him tightly, refusing to let go. "I-I know. I know you'll remember everything you need to remember," she whispered. "Never stop fighting until you find what you're looking for."

The sentiment was unexpected, and Bucky felt the ache rise in him again at her love and support. He leaned in again, closing his eyes and taking in her soft scent for the last time. His lips brushed her forehead, and he stroked her cheek before reluctantly stepping away. "I'll see you again," he promised, his voice fierce with determination.

Solace finally smiled, reaching up to touch his face briefly. "Until then, soldier."

When the bus arrived, Bucky didn't look back, only feeling the last, soft brush of her hand against his shoulder as he picked up his bag again and stepped forward. He entered the bus and silently showed the driver his pass.

The bus driver seemed a little surprised as Bucky headed for his usual seat. "Your lady friend not joining you today?" he questioned, looking out the window. Bucky followed his gaze briefly to see Solace already walking away down the sidewalk, her arms wrapped around herself. Judging from her fast pace and the way her head was bowed, he realized she must be crying.

Bucky sighed and slumped into his chair, trying to ignore the empty seat beside him. "Not today," he replied, gazing out at the grey skies above.

The bus pulled away, and Bucky slid his hands into his pockets, brushing his thumb over the small MP3 player he felt there. A soft smile curled at the corners of his mouth. _Never alone. I can't forget that._

For the first time, he was confident in himself. His memories, his future. Even if he was alone again, Bucky finally had something to fight for. The people he loved most in this world would wait for him. It was up to him to prove he was worth it.

 _Don't let go._

* * *

 _Annnnnd… with that, the story is ended._

… _Ok, there's still an epilogue after this for next week, but that will be the last chapter and update._

 _I'm sure most of you are accustomed to long-ass stories that go on forever like a TV show, but I really didn't want to write a story that goes on so long it forgets what it was doing in the first place, and has to come up with a lame conclusion when it finally does end. I much rather would write a more concise and contained story with a definitive ending, and the fact that I was able to do so makes me super happy. Of course, that's not to say there isn't room for future sequels or anything like that, though..._

 _Please review, and stick around till next week for the final chapter. Thank you so much!_


	14. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

" _Dear Solace,_

 _I wanted to mail you this letter, but then I remembered you said you were moving, so I'll try to give it to you when you come by the hospital again to say goodbye. Don't worry, I got plenty of privacy to write this, so no one else has read it._

 _I'm sure you know what the detectives know by now. They're talking about how an abandoned apartment was discovered, and from the stuff they found inside, they think that the Winter Soldier was there. They really think that he must have been working with Crossbones, and I really wish I could tell them they're wrong! But I know that's a bad idea for all of us. I don't want them to know your secret identity._

 _The last time you visited, you said Bucky left town. I understand why, but I wish he didn't. You seemed so sad, even if you were trying not to show it. They told me about what the Winter Soldier had done and why he's a bad person, but I don't think I believe it. Yeah, I guess he was pretty scary the first time I met him, but he did try to help me. And I saw how hard he fought to try and help you, too! I think he really cares about you, Solace. I'm sorry he had to go away, but I don't want the police to get him, either. I hope you two can see each other again. I really feel like he was a good person._

 _I'm going to tell you this when you visit, but they found me a foster family through the witness protection program. It looks like I'll be traveling to meet up with them. I'm not sure where they live yet—it's for my protection, they say—but I guess I'll find out soon enough. It must be far away because I'm taking a plane, though. So I guess we'll all be going our separate ways. My dad's lawyers will be taking care of all my dad's stuff and what I get to have, but since I'm not old enough and because they're worried about Crossbones coming after me, I'll have to wait for a while before I can access it. I guess that's ok, though. I kind of want to put that behind me for the time being._

 _I haven't told anyone this, but I know I can trust you with it. I really miss Dad a lot, but… I think he must have done something bad, for Crossbones to come after him. I remember Dad always having strange men visit the house when I was growing up. They'd pass around briefcases, lots of documents. Dad would work long hours on secret projects that he said were classified. He said it was for the government, but I think he was lying. I remember when I walked in on Crossbones just after he murdered Dad… I ran to Dad's side, trying to wake him up. Crossbones glared at me with such a terrifying expression, before he snatched up a picture on Dad's desk nearby and ran away. It rolled up like a poster, and looked like it had a machine blueprint on it or something. I can't really remember anything about it because it was written in weird letters, but I do remember a big skull on the top. Or an octopus? I don't really know. It looked creepy._

 _I only want you to know all that because I think you'll figure out what it means. I don't want you to worry about me. I'm not scared of Crossbones anymore. He's a horrible person, and I am worried about him trying to track me down, but I just don't want him to hurt my friends anymore. I don't want him to hurt you. But I'm not scared of him. I think he knows he can't push me around anymore, not without a fight._

 _Solace… I want to thank you for everything you've done for me. You're the closest thing I've had to a mom in a long time. Mom died when I was 7, and I really miss her, but you've been there for me ever since I had to go to the hospital for my heart condition. Even after I wasn't your patient anymore, you were always looking out for me. Plus, you're a superhero! How cool is that? You're probably the best friend I have, and I'll really miss you. I hope we can stay in touch, but I don't know how that will work since I have to live somewhere secret. You probably do, too._

 _Tell Bucky hi if you see him again, and stay safe if you're going to go out and fight more bad guys. If they ever made a comic book about you, I would be your biggest fan!_

 _Lots of love, Alec Ternz"_

* * *

 _Bucharest, Romania – 3 months later_

"Sper ca totul este in regula." (1)

Bucky Barnes scanned the room before him, one bare-bones apartment out of many in a building tucked into the middle of Romania's capital city. It was cheap, and the room reflected that—though it came furnished—albeit sparsely—the furniture and appliances looked pretty old and worn. But that was of no concern to him.

He turned to face the landlady with a charming smile, one that came to him far more comfortably than it once had. "Este perfect," he assured her, in practiced Romanian. "Va multumesc foarte mult." (2)

The older woman smiled and bowed her head politely, before handing him the keys to the apartment. "Anunta-ti-ma daca aveti nevoie de altceva," she said, before leaving the room. (3)

Bucky waited until she disappeared down the stairwell before he locked the front door. True to routine, the soldier prompted him to explore every inch of the small dwelling, frowning at the bare windows devoid of curtains or blinds of any sort. Buying his own would probably be too expensive, though; maybe he'd just cover the windows with newspaper until he came up with a better solution.

Once he'd taken an inventory of the apartment's security, Bucky set his bag down next to the bed and began to process what items he'd have to purchase. He would have to ration his saved money carefully; he'd spent much of it getting to Europe, after all. New York City had been too overwhelming to him—looking over the once-familiar neighborhoods of his youth only brought on a fresh new wave of pain, realizing everything had changed drastically since he last set foot there. The confusion had been too much, and that, coupled with the constant paranoia of federal authorities searching for the Winter Soldier, had prompted Bucky to decide to go overseas. He'd be away from those who were actively searching for him, and he'd have plenty of time to himself to reflect on what he was trying to remember. Being in a completely foreign environment might help him figure everything out, without distractions.

Good thing the Winter Soldier was fluent in Romanian, and had spent plenty of missions traveling through Bucharest in the past. He would feel just comfortable enough with the city to get by.

With a sigh, Bucky collapsed backwards on his bare mattress and stared at the new ceiling above him. He'd have to figure out how to adjust to a new place all over again, and this time he would be keenly aware of the lonely hole in his heart. Solace's voice and smile would not be there to look forward to, to make each day bearable.

Reaching into his pocket, Bucky pulled out the MP3 player that he had kept on him every day since leaving Philadelphia. It was pink, yes, and it probably looked silly for such a rugged young man to use, but he didn't care. Every night he'd listen to it—sometimes he'd shuffle everything on the player, just to see what kind of music Solace enjoyed. But most of the time, he'd listen to the playlist Solace made for him, titled "For my Soldier." They must have been the songs that reminded her of him, and each one spoke to him in different ways, reminding him of the brief but beautiful totality that was their relationship.

After hitting play, Bucky allowed himself to relax to the soothing music, idly scrolling through the device's menus as he did so. He hadn't really dug into it too deeply until now, not being super familiar with such technology. But he remembered that Solace had put the photos of their date on it, and now he wanted to look at them. After a few attempts, he managed to navigate to the photo library and began browsing through the pictures. He smiled at the handful of shots from their date, but was surprised to see those weren't the only photos on the device. He found a few pictures of him that he didn't remember Solace ever taking. They looked like she had quickly snapped them when Bucky wasn't looking; they were all of him in profile, and his attention was elsewhere. But he looked oddly content, a hint of a smile on his face. Perhaps because he was with her, and she always made him happy.

With a slight chuckle, Bucky continued to look through the pictures, finally coming across the last few in the library. They were all selfies that Solace must have taken of herself, just for him; she had tried several poses and expressions, some serious, others happy and cute. He felt butterflies in his stomach just gazing into her bright eyes, and seeing the sweet smile on her face.

"God, kitten," he breathed, bringing the MP3 player to his lips and kissing the screen briefly. "I miss you."

Bucky rolled over, desperate to distract himself from his sentiment, and reached into his bag nearby, pulling out a few of his notebooks. He'd finished up the previous one he'd been working on, and was ready to start on a fresh one. Before putting the completed notebook away, Bucky flipped quickly through the pages, mentally reviewing the things he had tried to remember in the last few months. The last chunk of pages were his section dedicated to Steve and Solace; he'd filled it up on the bus rides to New Jersey and New York with musings of the girl he'd left behind, and all the things he wanted to remember about their time together.

He smiled briefly at the sentimental journal entries, before looking at Steve's admittedly-smaller section. Most of what Bucky wrote about him was vague, and the photos he'd collected of Captain America seemed equally as vague. They were just pictures he'd found that anyone could look at. But the last one he'd tucked into the pages—the old photo of Captain Steve Rogers and Sergeant Bucky Barnes sharing a moment of levity together—was no such thing. It was special, unique. Bucky stared at the photo and tried not to become anxious at his inability to remember what they'd been doing. Steve was his friend. He'd forgive him for not remembering everything about that day. No one remembered everything about their lives, after all.

Bucky took the photo out and set the notebook aside. He placed the picture on the nightstand and smiled, just a little. Maybe if he saw it every day, he'd stop feeling nervous about it. In time, he might even start to remember.

Music still soft and comforting in his ears, Bucky pulled a pen out of his bag and focused his attention on the new notebook in front of him. He flipped it open, and was surprised to see unfamiliar handwriting across the first page. It took him a moment to remember that he'd given Solace this notebook to write in. The realization made his heart jump in his throat, and he studied her notes carefully. Oh, that was right—she'd asked him about his childhood, and many of the questions only drew a blank in his mind. Bucky chewed on the end of his pen and examined the first set of questions, as if he were taking an exam. _"Who were your parents? Did you have any siblings? What were they like?"_

How awful that Bucky couldn't remember anything about his own family. A vague part of him wanted to say he didn't have one or maybe even both parents. The exhibit dedicated to him at the Smithsonian Institute claimed he was the oldest of four children, but if that were true, he certainly couldn't remember anything about his siblings. He breathed a somewhat-frustrated sigh and turned the page to write at least that much down.

But when he did, Bucky was startled, once again, to see the next page filled with even more of Solace's handwriting. This time, she hadn't written him prompts and reminders—she'd written him an entire letter. He felt his heart beat faster in his chest as he tucked the pen behind his ear and shifted his position to read.

" _Dear Bucky,_

 _I'm keeping this brief because you're staring at me from across the table right now, and it just kills me to have to ignore those beautiful eyes and keep writing~ But I want to give you something to hold onto when you're alone and trying to remember things._

 _It feels terrible to think that we've had so little time together. I sometimes think I should have talked to you sooner at the bus stop. I don't think I ever explained it, but I started riding the bus because I sold my car to Jasc. He needed it more than I did, and he couldn't afford anything else. I was kind of annoyed at him at the time, but maybe now I need to thank him. If I hadn't given up my car, I probably wouldn't have met you._

 _There was something so easy to trust about you. Every part of me told me not to invite you close; you were just a random guy at the bus stop. Who knew if you were a weirdo or something. But there was something in your eyes that made my heart jump every time I saw you. I finally let myself reach out and touch you with my abilities, just a little, to see what kind of person you were. I could feel your pain and fear, but… at the same time, you had such a light about you, too. Everything hurt inside, but you weren't letting that take over._

 _I liked what I saw, and I wished I had the courage to sit next to you. But I didn't. I kept hoping you'd notice me instead. I just was scared. Maybe I was fantasizing what I wanted from you. Maybe you weren't as nice as I dreamed._

 _But then you proved you noticed me. You helped me, that day, when I almost missed the bus. And that's when I found the courage to get closer to you. I never imagined what we'd become. I just knew I loved your smile._

 _Bucky… I know you have a lot ahead of you, and I wish so badly I could be there to help you through it. But you'll be fine. We'll be fine. I don't know what the future has in store for either of us, but I know I'll always want you in my life._

 _Keep fighting, my soldier. When this war is over and you need to rest, I'll find you. I promise._

 _Love, Solace"_

At first Bucky thought her signature was especially messy, but then he realized his vision was blurring. He blinked, hard, and a tear fell on the page just below her name.

 _Stop being so good to me, please; I don't deserve it—_

He realized he was breathing hard, but just as he started to feel dizzy he suddenly flipped to the next page and grabbed his pen again. He began writing as if his hand was possessed, the words coming so easily that he wasn't even sure his brain was processing them.

" _I remember seeing Mom crying in the kitchen, but she didn't see me. I was in full uniform and wanted to surprise her before I was shipped off to Europe. When she finally left the room to compose herself, I went in and read the letter. Dad died in some kind of training accident. I remember feeling angry, that he didn't even get to go to war again. That I didn't get to make him proud. Mom never told me before I left; I'm pretty sure she didn't want to upset me. But I was still upset. I wonder what she ended up telling my kid brothers and sister."_

Bucky tried to steady his breathing as he reread what he'd written. These brief, sudden moments of clarity were not unknown to him—that's what the notebooks were for, after all, to capture them—but he was still surprised at himself for pulling such memories out of nowhere. They were obviously still vague, and he'd probably never recall all the details, but it was still something. The story before him didn't make him sad, for he didn't remember anything about either of his parents, or his siblings. All it invoked was a solemn confusion.

Still, he tried his best to smile, to pull some pride from the fact that he'd remembered something. _See beautiful girl, I'm fighting as hard as I can. You're worth it. He's worth it._ _I'm_ _worth it._

The pen lowered to the paper again, and Bucky began to write. Remembering his own mother, however briefly, brought some clarity to a memory he'd been nursing for months. A sad, scrawny young blond, wearing a suit far too big for him. His blue eyes struggled to hold back tears as he stared up at Bucky desperately.

" _I went to a funeral. I don't really remember all the details of it, but I do remember how nice the programs looked. 'Sarah Rogers, beloved mother and friend.' She apparently loved pink roses, because there were a lot of them at the service. I remember some old man whispering they weren't appropriate for a funeral, and Steve overheard him. He looked like he wanted to cry because he really liked those flowers too, and more than anything I wished I could break that asshole's nose."_

When he closed his eyes again, Steve's face was still there, full of sadness. Bucky saw himself reach out, grabbing the smaller man's shoulder tightly, throat filling with all the things he wanted to say, needed to say, should have said.

" _I'm with you till the end of the line, pal."_

But Bucky knew—now, more than ever—that it had been enough.

* * *

 _Washington, D.C._

The door opened, and with it came a rush of frigid air, sweeping into the café. He fought the urge to apologize to the people inside who flinched and yelped at the sudden cold, and instead kept his head down, joining the line of customers waiting to order lunch. He didn't want to draw attention to himself; he was here for something important, and could not bear the thought of people recognizing him and distracting him from that.

After several minutes of waiting, he finally was able to order his food—coffee with some fancy, artisan sandwich that sounded tasty even if he didn't know what half the ingredients were—and carried both from the counter to find a seat. His eyes, hidden behind an admittedly dorky-looking set of glasses, scanned the room carefully. He wasn't early, was he? He'd made it a point to arrive right on time. But maybe she was late? The snow outside could very well hold her up somewhere…

His gaze kept returning to a petite-looking brunette girl in the corner, staring at her smartphone while she stirred a cup of soup. He approached with hesitant footsteps, just in case he was mistaken, and she finally looked up. Her gaze met his, and he could see the recognition in her eyes. Her cheeks colored as she gave him a shy smile.

Encouraged, he set his meal down on the table across from her, reaching out his hand with a kind smile. "Miss Morgan?" he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear.

The young woman's eyes lit up happily, and she shook his hand. "Captain Rogers," she acknowledged, in a voice just as soft as his, filled with awe.

The two tucked into their meals, making casual small talk to ease the tension between them. She, in hushed, excited breaths, insisted he call her Solace, while he, in return, assured her that Steve would be just fine. They complained about the cold and snow, although Steve didn't actually find it to be too unpleasant—he'd experienced much worse, after all. When they'd finished eating their lunches, he offered to buy her a cupcake, which she'd accepted shyly but insisted he share with her. Steve, embarrassed, had complied, and the two dug in with separate forks.

Halfway through dessert, Steve finally decided to broach the real matter at hand. Solace was an incredibly sweet woman, he thought, and talking to her was certainly soothing and enjoyable, but in the end, the two of them were here on business, not a date.

"I want to thank you for reaching out to me," Steve began, setting his fork down and staring at her across the table. "I'm… not completely sure how you got into contact with Sam, but I'm really glad you did."

Solace smiled slightly and looked down, poking at the cupcake thoughtfully. "I was a candidate for being recruited into SHIELD—back when they were still around, anyway," she explained. "I still have some connections that aren't HYDRA infested."

Steve tried not to frown at the memories of discovering SHIELD was infiltrated by the villainous organization, and had been for decades. "However you were able to manage it… I really appreciate you taking the time to meet me."

"Oh, come on. Like I was going to pass up the opportunity to meet Captain America," she teased. Solace's cheeriness made Steve smile, but he still felt awkward. He'd never been great with women, even after he'd become a supersoldier. _I bet Bucky would have liked meeting her. I feel like their personalities would get along real well together—_

But then he reminded himself that Bucky wasn't Bucky anymore; he was the _Winter Soldier_. His smile faded.

"Hey," Solace said, in a far gentler tone, and Steve was startled when he felt her hand on his arm. "I'm just joking. I'm really happy to be here with you, Captain America or not."

"It's… it's not that," Steve tried to assure. "I'm just… distracted, I guess. I'm sorry."

Solace's eyes studied him, before she nodded in understanding. "No, it's ok. I know what you're really here for."

Steve took a deep breath, trying to push back all the emotions he felt bottled up inside him. His larger hand squeezed hers gently, trying to be polite and welcoming while still expressing a tinge of urgency. "Sam said you might know where he is," he said.

"Not… exactly. But I can tell you where he's been."

"That's fine. Anything will help." Steve felt his heart race, wondering if it was really true. "You're absolutely sure it was him, though?" He heard the dishes on the table rattle ever so slightly, and he realized he was trembling. He loosened his grip just in case he grasped Solace too hard out of anxiety.

Solace stared at him for a moment, then laughed weakly and let go of his hand, fumbling with something hanging around her neck. The familiar, metallic clinking of dog tags reached his ears, and Steve watched her pull a set out from under her shirt. With careful fingers, Solace unsnapped the secondary chain from her necklace before closing it again, and held the tag out to Steve's open hand.

"For you," she said, simply.

Confused, Steve looked down at it—and his heart stopped. He knew the name and the numbers stamped into the metal just as surely as he knew his own, and the particular nicks and scratches in the tag were equally as familiar to him.

 _James B Barnes, 32557038, T42 43 A, P_

Steve had to squeeze his eyes shut, briefly, before looking up at Solace again. She was smiling warmly, and he found himself smiling back. She'd met _him_ —not the Winter Soldier—and he was doing just fine. That was all Steve ever wanted or needed. To know his best friend was ok.

"Bucky says hi."

* * *

 _Translations:_

(1) _Sper ca totul este in regula. – "I hope this is acceptable."_

(2) _Este perfect. Va multumesc foarte mult. - "It is perfect. Thank you very much."_

(3) _Anunta-ti-ma daca aveti nevoie de altceva. - "Let me know if you need anything else."_

* * *

 _The End!_

 _With that,_ _Stay With Me_ _is now finished! I hope all of you have enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!_

 _Posting this fanfic to share with all of you has been a little nerve-wracking, as the story became such an important project to me while I was writing and editing it. I began writing sometime in June of 2016, and finished it sometime in either January or February 2017, though I spent the months since then constantly editing and fine-tuning it before I finally began posting it here. It's been such a great journey!_

 _While I've drawn inspiration from a lot of different places, music really helped shape and set the tone for this story as I wrote it (which seems apt, what with Solace and all). The primary album I listened to while working on much of this was Breaking Benjamin's_ _Dark Before Dawn_ _. Specifically, I really resonated and connected to the song "Ashes of Eden," from which the title of the story actually comes from. I also have a (small) playlist on Spotify that I put together for this story; let me know if you're interested in what the songs are._

 _While I do have ideas for future stories that take place after_ _Stay With Me_ _, I have no timeline in mind for when I plan to write them. Writing this was very therapeutic and my inspiration came very naturally, so I don't wish to force myself to write anything just yet if I'm not feeling it. All I can say about a future story is that it will take place during the events of Civil War, but it will probably be an AU/what-if type of scenario where the plot is re-written with my own ideas. I plan to incorporate a lot more inspiration from the Marvel comic books into the storyline too, just as I did for some of the aspects of_ _Stay With Me_ _, so I think it'll be really fun. :)_

 _A few additional notes—Jasc (the friend that Solace alludes to several times in the story) was meant to make a brief appearance at some point in the story, but as I continued to edit it, he got cut out. He'll probably be a supporting character in the sequel. Alec will definitely appear in future stories too. By the way—while Solace never mentions this, her "superhero alias" is Siren, which was designated to her at the SHIELD training facility when she was staying there. While the outfit she wears in this story is pretty makeshift at this point in time, she does have an "official" Siren outfit that I have artwork of, if you're interested in seeing it. Just PM me~_

 _While I know there are a multitude of Bucky x OC stories here on the site, I really appreciate you taking the time to read mine, and again I hope you all enjoyed it. Reviews are very much appreciated, and you are also welcome to PM me if you have any questions. Thank you for reading, and I hope to see you all again in the future!_


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